


Beautiful Burden

by TheKittyDeity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha Harry Potter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Daddy Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Forced Pregnancy, Heavy Angst, Knotting, Lactation Kink, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Male Lactation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Older Man/Younger Man, Omega Draco Malfoy, Physical Abuse, Protective Daddy Harry Potter, Rape/Non-con Elements, Whump, You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:49:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 49,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27678331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKittyDeity/pseuds/TheKittyDeity
Summary: It’s been 16 years since the end of the Second Wizarding War and Harry Potter wants to put the past behind him. The unmated Alpha spends his days writing in solitude after retiring early from the Ministry of Magic.A steady decline in magical births sends Wizarding Britain into a panic. Omegas are in short supply and birth rates are rapidly dwindling each year.When young Omega, Draco Malfoy, is assigned to be Harry Potter’s own personal breeding mare in reparation for his parents' war crimes, the line between resentment and obsession begins to blur.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 607
Kudos: 1104





	1. Hidden Burden

**Author's Note:**

> I should not be starting any new fics, BUT
> 
> HEAR ME OUT...pregnant Draco. 😎
> 
> For real though, I’ve never written Omegaverse, so be gentle with me. 
> 
> Oh, this fic is gonna be fucked up btw. I just love torturing Draco. 🥰💅🏻
> 
>  **Warning** : Like always, please mind my tags. If this type of fictional relationship ain’t your thing, don’t read on.
> 
> B u c k l e u p

**WIZARDING BRITAIN’S MAGICAL BIRTH RATES RAPIDLY DECLINING - MINISTER OF MAGIC TO TAKE DRASTIC ACTION**

Harry Potter sat in the kitchen of his home at 12 Grimmauld Place. A lit cigarette hung between his lips, the smoke curling into the air above his head.

He adjusted his hold on the Daily Prophet, narrowing his eyes at the headline.

His best friend, Ron Weasley, had told him about the Ministry’s sudden involvement with the fertility studies taking place at St Mungo’s in the past year.

Apparently, the low number of magical pregnancies in the past five years was beginning to become a growing concern for the Ministry.

No magical pregnancies meant no witches or wizards. If there were no more witches or wizards, that meant no more magic. It meant the extinction of their kind.

It was all dreadfully bleak as of late.

Magical pregnancy was only possible for an Omega witch or wizard. Even then, it was extremely high risk. The precautions that had to be taken after an Omega witch or wizard was impregnated were endless. They had to be carefully observed and rarely left alone.

Their Alpha mate would have to be around them all times, their pheromones the only thing able to soothe the pregnant Omega and the baby in their womb.

The baby could sense their Alpha parent’s own unique blend of magic and pheromones from inside the womb and if they were separated, the pregnancy would almost always end in miscarriage or still-birth.

Omegas were a rarity of their own and even rarer for the Wizarding World.

His own best friend, Hermione Granger, was an an Omega witch. His other best friend, Ron Weasley, was an Alpha wizard. They had gotten married after graduating from Hogwarts and had tried for years to conceive.

When Hermione had become pregnant with their daughter, Rose, Ron had sequestered Hermione away in their house. He hadn’t allowed her to do anything for herself, waiting on her hand and foot her entire pregnancy. 

Ron had known the chances of conception and hadn’t wanted to take any risks. Hermione had ended up carrying Rose to full term, but the nine months she’d been pregnant had been stressful on her, mentally and physically.

After a difficult pregnancy and birth, Hermione and Ron had made the decision not to try for another baby.

Ron was an Auror for the Ministry, like Harry had used to be.

He’d decided to retire five years ago, choosing instead to finally pursue his dreams of becoming an author.

He had written several bestsellers about his experience during the war and as an Auror for the Ministry. His books had been sold worldwide, and he often traveled to different countries to hold seminars and give speeches at different Wizarding schools throughout the globe.

Harry was currently on a hiatus from traveling. He was working on his next novel and needed absolute concentration for the next six months if he wanted to churn out another bestseller.

Truthfully, he didn’t need the money. He was more than well off and could retire completely if he chose to. He found he was adept at writing, however, and it kept his mind busy.  
  
He was thirty-three now and still unmated. He had no desire to take on an Omega. During his ruts, he would find some willing Beta to fuck until he was slightly sated. Fucking a Beta always left a bad taste in his mouth, though. They smelled wrong and he _never_ came inside of them.

His friends always reminded him that he was growing older. They wanted Harry to have pups of his own and some sweet Omega at home, waiting to suck his cock and take his knot.

Harry didn’t really have any urgency to reproduce or find a mate. He was perfectly content with the way things were and preferred for life to be calm rather than chaotic.

A mate meant emotions and emotions were terribly messy. Watching Ron act barbaric over Hermione during her pregnancy had put him off to the whole idea entirely.

Who wanted to appear that _weak_ , anyway?

To think some hormones and a little slick between the thighs could _control_ a person to that degree—

Harry shuddered.

 _No_.

He was fine with rutting some faceless Beta when his baser urges got the better of him.

Harry took a long drag of his cigarette and continued reading.

_The Minister of Magic made a surprise visit to the newly erected fertility ward at St Mungo’s hospital in Muggle London this past week. Various studies have began on the low number of currently pregnant Omegas that receive care at St Mungo’s. In the past five years, only 158 documented magical pregnancies have occurred and only 78 have made it to full gestation and birthed alive._

A moving photograph of Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt shaking the hand of the Head Healer at St Mungo’s was depicted.

They both wore bright, friendly smiles, but Harry knew that the relationship was all business.

Nothing but a transaction.

If St Mungo’s continued to do what the Ministry wanted, the generous funding for the hospital wouldn’t cease. The funding came from some of the most elite people working at the Ministry.

Harry continued reading, his eyes drifting away from the staged photograph. 

_With magical birth rates rapidly declining, the Minister of Magic has signed a rather unorthodox law into place pertaining to unmated Omegas sixteen and older. The law states that all unmated Omegas must be assigned to a willing Alpha and efforts to impregnate said Omega should commence immediately. It is commonly known that Omegas experience their first heat at the age of sixteen and the chances of impregnation are greatly increased the younger an Omega is._

Harry gave a derisive snort, flicking his cigarette ash into the crystal ashtray on the table in front of him.

He felt sorry for the Alphas who were to be assigned an Omega so young. It would be like taking care of a child, but you had to get said child _pregnant_.

Harry shuddered again.

The situation must be more dire than the Ministry was willing to let on if they were enacting such draconian methods to increase the chances of magical conception. 

Well, at least he didn’t have to worry about the Ministry’s backwards dealings anymore. 

He stubbed out his cigarette and stood. He was about to make coffee when Kreacher ambled into the kitchen.

”Mister Weasley is here to see Master Potter, he is,” Kreacher snuffled.

Harry raised a brow.

What could Ron want to talk about arriving unannounced in the middle of the day?

Harry made his way to the drawing room and found Ron pacing in front of the Floo.

”Are you all right, mate? You’re wearing down my rug.” Harry chuckled.

Ron halted his pacing, a furrow appearing between his light red brows. “Harry, I need you to come with me to the Ministry. We’ve found Narcissa Malfoy. We bloody found her, Harry!”

Harry paused, staring at Ron.

Narcissa Malfoy had absconded shortly after the war, avoiding the post-war trials. The Ministry had been searching for her for the past 16 years. Her husband, Lucius Malfoy, had died in Azkaban prison several years ago. Eventually, they’d given up hope of finding Narcissa. It been years and they’d assumed she’d died. 

Harry felt a curl of anticipation in his lower stomach.

They found the cunt.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had caused some of the most painful losses in his life and had contributed to the death of his parents and the injury and death of some of his closest friends. 

Harry had loved knowing that Lucius had rotted away in Azkaban and had found it dreadfully unfair that his bitch of a wife hadn’t suffered the same fate. 

He smiled. “Take me to her.”

**XXX**

Ron led Harry down to the bowels of the Ministry, to Level Ten beneath the Wizengamot Court Chambers.

The Detention Area.

Harry hadn't been down to the level of the Ministry since he'd retired. He'd forgotten how cold and bleak it was. 

It held detained suspects that were awaiting trial and also kept convicted witches and wizards who were awaiting transportation to Azkaban. It was heavily guarded. Two Watchwizards standing guard at the entrance gates hastily stepped aside when they saw Harry and Ron striding towards them.

They walked down a circular corridor to the right, their footsteps echoing off of the black tiled walls. They entered a cavernous holding area where several gilded cages lined the right side of the wall. The cells were magically reinforced with silencing charms and magic dampeners. The prisoners within the cells could not see out and could not hear any noise outside of the cage that held them.

Inside of one of the cages, sat a bound Narcissa Malfoy.

She looked older. Her hair was almost fully white now and multiple age lines marked the pale skin of her face. Her eyes were still narrowed in that infuriatingly imperious way that Harry remembered from his youth.

Even though Narcissa appeared older, she looked completely unscathed. It seemed as if her time on the run hadn’t been too strenuous. Her full lips were pulled into a impatient scowl, her perfectly groomed brows regally slanted over her blue eyes.

There was a slight tremble to her bound hands that laid in her lap.

Looking at her now, Harry felt blistering rage like never before. 

While this woman had 16 years to do as she pleased, his most closest friends and family laid dead and buried. They hadn’t been given such time as Narcissa had taken.

Harry’s fingers clenched into fists at his sides.

”Where did you find her?” Harry asked through gritted teeth.

Ron crossed his arms over his chest. “She had been living in a seaside town in France. _Collioure_.”

”Charming,” Harry said flatly, his ire only growing.

“Apparently Lucius had bought a safe house there using untraceable methods of purchase. She’d been living under an alias and suppressing her magic so the locals wouldn’t grow suspicious.”

”So how did you end up finding her after all this time?”

Ron was silent for several moments. “A flare of underage magic was made known to the French Ministry of Magic. They traced it to the source and found Narcissa. Someone there recognized her and alerted us. They allowed us to bring her back to London to be persecuted for her crimes.”

Harry turned, giving Ron a quizzical look. “Underage magic?”

”Yes. There’s something else we found, well, erm, _someone_ else, to be precise.”

”What do you mean, Ron?”

Ron turned and gave Harry a rueful smile. “Follow me.”

**XXX**

Harry followed Ron to a small room off to the side of the area that housed the prisoners. 

A Healer sat off to the side, a quill in one hand and a notepad in the other. She was furiously scribbling notes onto the pad of paper. 

An exam table had been set up in the middle of the room next to a table filled with magical medical instruments. Diagnostic spells in spindly, luminescent script floated in the air above the exam table.

In the middle of the exam table, laid the most beautiful creature Harry had ever laid eyes on.

It was a young boy.

The small boy couldn't have been older than fourteen. He had longish platinum blond hair, several sweat-dampened strands sticking to his pale cheeks and forehead. His full, pink lips were slightly parted, shallow breaths making his chest rise and fall.

The boy’s eyes moved restlessly beneath his closed lids, long, blond eyelashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. His clothing was tattered and smudged with dirt, the front of his button-down gaping open at the throat. One of the boy's small, pink nipples was exposed, seeming to taunt Harry. 

The boy let out a small moan, a furrow appearing between his pale brows. 

Harry felt an inane urge to rush to the boy's side and calm his distress.

His skin felt too tight over his muscles, the cloying scent of the boy wafting to Harry's nostrils and setting his teeth on edge. The smell seemed to permeate the air around him, closing in from all sides in the enclosed space. 

Harry wanted to run. He wanted to break something. He wanted to _fuck_. 

The juxtaposition of the riotous emotions running through him was inexplicably confounding. 

The boy's slender arms were stretched taut overtop his head, his wrists bound and tied to an eyelet hook that was bolted to the exam table above his head.

"Ron, why do you have a child tied to an exam table under the Ministry?" Harry asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the unconscious boy. 

Ron cleared his throat, shifting. "That's not just any child, Harry." He turned to look at Harry, wearing a grave expression. "That's the only son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy."

"Child of..." Harry cast him a dubious look. "Narcissa had no children when she fled after the war. At least not any documented. I would know."

"Right. That's the thing, Harry. She had been pregnant when she fled. Draco Malfoy," he canted his head towards the boy, "is sixteen years old."

Older than fourteen, then.

"She's been hiding him," Harry said softly, the malicious thread of anticipation unfurling with sinister quickness inside of him. It wrapped around his heart, deliciously tightening and giving Harry a feeling of delirious happiness. 

Narcissa Malfoy still had something she loved. Something to be used against her. A slow smile curled Harry's lips.

"There's one more thing," Ron said.

"What?" 

"He's an Omega."


	2. Owned Burden

“What will you do with the boy?”

Harry and Ron sat in Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt’s pompously decorated office.

Magical history books and novels written by long-dead famous witches and wizards lined the black mahogany shelves behind Kingsley, providing him a backdrop of annoyingly implied intelligence and superiority.

Harry wondered if the Minister had ever even _read_ one of the books to completion.

A niggling itch beneath the skin at the base of his neck made him pause.

Harry felt odd, almost as if he couldn’t bear to be away from Draco. Ever since he’d left him to talk with Kingsley, a voice in his head rebelled at being so far away from him, an animalistic roaring in his skull that reverberated with frightening intensity. His entire body felt strung too tightly, remnants of Draco’s sweet scent seeming to stick to his skin and seep into his pores until it felt as if the boy was living _inside_ of him.

He had never felt this way before.

It was infuriating. It was revolting. It was… _decadent_.

 _Was he awake now? Was he in pain? Did he need_ …

Harry clenched his jaw and inhaled slowly through his nostrils in an attempt to quell the incessant questions that seemed to be stuck on a loop within his mind.

If only he could banish the erection he had since scenting Draco for the first time. He’d excused himself for a moment to tuck his leaking cock into the waistband of his trousers, but it still hadn’t abated. 

Draco’s scent seemed to linger in the air around him, making saliva pool in Harry’s mouth.

Harry assured himself that it was just a normal biological reaction. He was an Alpha and Draco was an Omega. They were biologically compatible, and he was inherently predisposed to react to Omega pheromones in such a way. It was as natural as his circadian rhythms or his ruts each month. Purely chemical, nothing more.

Nothing more.

The boy’s tantalizing scent seemed to taunt him, making his skin feel too tight again.

Harry dug the short nail of his index finger into the arm of his chair, twisting it until it dented the wood, forming a crescent-shaped laceration.

 _But_ …

Draco wasn’t in heat and Harry wasn’t experiencing a rut.

Harry had been in close vicinity to Omegas in the past and he’d never felt this… _out of control_.

Deep down, he was repressing the overwhelming urge to lurch out of that fucking chair and back to Draco.

He wanted to press his nose into the pale column of his delicate-looking throat and _inhale_. He wanted to press his tongue to Draco’s scent glands and _taste_ him. He wanted to get that intoxicating, sweet smell in his mouth and on his fucking tongue. He wanted to rub his _own_ scent all over the boy. Mark him until he only smelled of _Harry_ —

Fuck.

These intrusive thoughts weren’t helping his erection or his sanity.

“Harry?”

The room seemed to shift back into focus. Harry looked up.

Ron and Kingsley were both staring expectantly at him.

“Sorry, what?”

Ron raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment on Harry’s lack of attention. “Kingsley said that Draco will be put into the new Omega breeding program. There’s a limited number of Omegas in London right now and most of them are either too old or too young.”

Harry shifted in his seat, eyes narrowing. “You mean you’ll give him to an Alpha to mate?”

“Well,” Kingsley cleared his throat before continuing, “I’d like to think of it as providing a more… _comfortable_ life. The boy is at the perfect age and with his mother being shipped off to Azkaban, he’ll be under the care of the Ministry indefinitely. Omegas are such vulnerable creatures already, weak and reliant on the protection of others. With an Alpha to take care of him, Draco will be better off, and the Ministry can keep an eye on him. This seems like a perfect solution.”

Harry felt rage like he’d never felt before. The mere thought of some faceless Alpha touching Draco, let alone _breeding_ him—

“ _No_ ,” he snarled.

Kingsley and Ron were silent, confusion and surprise evident on their faces.

“I mean,” Harry fought to control the tone of his voice, “I think you should release the boy into my care. I’m unmated and you can trust me to ensure that the boy behaves outside of his mother’s influence. We don’t know what kind of information Narcissa has been feeding him over the subsequent years. She could have still been active as a Death Eater and any information Draco has in relation to that could be invaluable to the Ministry.”

Kingsley stared at him from across his large desk, his dark eyes devoid of all emotion.

“Harry, Omegas are in short supply right now. While any information pertaining to Narcissa’s past or current involvement as a Death Eater is important to the Ministry, a healthy Omega of breeding age is considered _invaluable_ to us right now. With your…emotional connections to Draco’s family, I’m not sure it would be wise to release the boy into your care.”

Harry smiled, but it was all teeth. “Are you questioning my loyalty to the Ministry, Kingsley? You and I both know that when I retired, I took an oath to protect any and all private information that I’d learned in my career as an Auror. I would never go back on my oath, of course.”

The thinly veiled threat hung in the air between them. Ron’s eyes darted nervously between Kinglsey and Harry.

“Of course not, Harry,” Kingsley finally conceded. “The Ministry can trust you _explicitly_. You were one of our top Aurors at one time, and we would be happy to gift you the boy as a show of good faith.”

Harry stood, holding his hand out across the desk for Kinglsey to shake. “Perfect. I’ll take the boy home with me tonight, then.”

Kingsley took his proffered hand, giving it a firm shake. “There _are_ requirements to the breeding law, however. Draco will have to be checked over at least once a month by a Healer from St Mungo’s and if he becomes pregnant, he will be under strict supervision of the hospital and the Ministry. All precautions, of course. A healthy, happy Omega means a healthy, happy pregnancy. You do understand, Harry?”

“I understand, Kingsley. Draco will be _my_ mate, after all. I would protect him with my life, and if we’re lucky, he’ll be with child within the next few months.”

Kingsley smiled. “I’m so happy to hear that, Harry. Good luck to you.”

”Thank you, Minister Shacklebolt. The boy will be well cared for.”

Harry ignored Ron’s questioning gaze, turning to leave Kingsley’s office.

His lips curled, excitement and anticipation warring with the sudden violent wave of possessiveness he felt.

The boy was _his_.

**XXX**

Harry sat in one of the darkened guest bedrooms of his house. He had his elbows resting on the arms of the wingback chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.

He had been staring at an unconscious Draco for the last hour.

The Healer at the Ministry who’d been monitoring his vitals had told Harry that Draco had been given a prolonged sleeping potion.

Apparently when their house had been swarmed by the French Ministry, Draco had fought tooth and nail to protect his mother.

When it was obvious that the feisty Omega wasn’t going down without a fight, they’d begun giving him sleeping potions in an attempt to avoid him injuring himself or others.

Harry smiled. 

To think that this delicate boy had tried to fight Ministry soldiers was an almost comical image to him.

Draco looked like a quintessential Omega.

Soft and fragile, effeminate in appearance.

Harry had changed him out of his tattered clothing when he’d brought him home and put one of his old white dress shirts on him. It was far too big for Draco, the hem hitting mid-thigh. 

When Harry had seen the boy naked for the first time, his gaze had been immediately riveted between the boy’s soft, pale thighs.

Draco’s flaccid cock had been pale pink, a small thatch of white-blond pubic hair above it. 

Harry had pushed the boy’s legs even farther apart, biting back a groan when he saw his hole for the first time.

The sight of Draco’s small, pink hole had made Harry’s cock swiftly fill with blood, naturally reacting and readying to plunge into the Omega’s tight heat.

Harry couldn’t wait to see the slick Draco could produce.

Would it be as sweet as his scent?

Harry roughly rubbed the heel of his hand against his erection, trying to get himself under control.

 _Oh, the delicious things he had planned for Lucius Malfoy’s son_...

Draco let out a tiny whimper and rolled to his side, facing Harry.

His blond hair was spread around his head on the sheets, like a halo. His full lips were chapped, a faint flush visible across his small nose and cheeks.

Draco had been shifting non-stop for the past thirty minutes, presumedly coming out of the sleep potion induced coma.

Harry knew the euphoric effects of the potion would dull the boy’s sensitivity and give him a temporary feeling of faux calmness when he awoke. This bode well for Harry. It would be easier to lay out the rules and the slow torment he had planned for Narcissa’s son if Draco felt a false sense of security and wouldn’t go into hysterics right away.

Harry stood and walked over to the bed, stopping directly in front of Draco.

The boy rolled to his back on the bed, his pert nose wrinkling. The dress shirt had ridden up his thighs, almost revealing the tip of his cock.

Without thought, Harry reached out and brushed back an errant strand of Draco’s hair.

Draco moaned and scooted closer to the edge of the bed, unknowingly seeking out his Alpha.

As an Omega, Draco would be able to smell and sense Harry’s dominant presence. It was in their nature.

Just as it was in Harry’s nature to want to protect and care for Draco. 

Even now, the boy was emitting an ungodly amount of pheromones. The cloying scent filled the bedroom, pushing in from all sides.

Harry knew the boy’s body was reacting to him, trying to lure him in using its own naturally made defense mechanism against Alphas: seduction.

Unable to stop himself, Harry leaned down and pressed his nose to Draco’s soft hair, deeply inhaling. When that wasn’t enough, Harry lowered his head and stuck out his tongue, flattening it against Draco’s scent gland on his neck.

It was—

 _Ambrosia_.

Harry’s eyes slid shut in bliss, lapping at the boy’s skin and spreading his saliva over the gland to mark him.

Maybe he could just finger the boy a bit, get his scent on his fingers so—

Draco’s eyelids fluttered open, his gaze connecting with Harry’s.

They were a lovely molten gray color, limpid and lined with a fan of long, blond lashes.

The same eyes as his father’s.

Harry pulled back, disgusted with himself.

He had been licking the boy unwittingly, content to continue doing so until the boy was covered in Harry’s scent.

He had to remind himself that this was no ordinary Omega, this was an Omega son of a man he _loathed_. 

“Hello, little one,” Harry said coolly.

Draco halfway sat up, blearily glancing around the room. “W-where am I?” he asked softly.

”You’re in my home, well, _your_ home now, too.”

“My home?” Draco asked dazedly.

Draco tried to swinging his legs over the side of the bed, but his body was still heavy with the effects of the sleeping potion. He just ended up kicking one leg off the side, exposing himself to Harry.

With restraint he didn’t know he possessed, he just barely stopped himself from pouncing on Draco.

There would be plenty of times for the games Harry wanted to play when the boy was more coherent.

More _susceptible_ to the pain he intended to deliver.

Harry leaned down, intending to push the boy back onto the bed, but Draco grabbed his forearm.

”Why do you smell so...” Draco swallowed thickly and grabbed Harry’s hand, lifting it to his lips. He pressed his nose against the back of Harry’s hand, nuzzling it. 

“Mhm, it smells so good,” Draco murmured, lightly running his lips over Harry’s knuckles. “Like chocolate...or...” Draco flicked out his pink tongue and ran it between Harry’s knuckles, the small muscle leaving a sheening trail of saliva behind.

Harry’s cock twitched in his trousers.

Draco was still experiencing the effects of the potion, so Harry decided to play along.

”Like it, do you?” Harry purred.

The boy nodded and pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s hand. “I want more...” he sighed.

”Greedy boy,” Harry chided. “Take down your shirt, I see how hard your nipples are. Let me take a look and I’ll think about fulfilling your request.”

It took several clumsy attempts, but Draco complied, unbuttoning and pushing the shirt down to pool around his small waist.

Draco’s hardened nipples stood out against his pale skin, like strawberries against cream.

Harry idly wondered what they would look like engorged and dripping milk. If Draco became pregnant, Harry knew they would become swollen and sensitive. 

Would Draco beg him to suckle him? He could ease his Omega’s discomfort, suck out the excess—

Harry shook away the strange direction of his thoughts, focusing on the now.

”So pretty. Do you touch them often?”

Draco nodded, kissing around Harry’s fingers now. “Yeah. Especially d-during my heat. They burn if I don’t rub them...” he murmured between kisses.

“You’ve already had your first heat?”

”Mhm...yeah. When I was thirteen.”

Harry paused, arching a brow. “That’s awfully young to begin getting your heat.”

Draco smiled and laid back on the bed, pulling Harry overtop him. He had a blissed out expression on his face.

He was _gone_ , inebriated from the side effects of the potion.

“Mum started giving me suppressants early on. My heats can get...overwhelming.”

Draco was slowly rocking his hips under Harry, his now hard prick pressing against Harry’s stomach.

Harry leaned down and daubed his tongue against one strawberry nipple, shuddering. Draco’s breath hitched, his hands burrowing into Harry’s hair and tugging.

Harry pulled back. ”Do you penetrate yourself, Draco? During your heat?”

”S-sometimes. I used a dildo once, b-but it wasn’t enough,” he mewled.

Harry stared down at Draco, imagining him fucking himself with a toy.

Though lust was on the forefront of his mind, he was surprised to feel...jealous.

Draco shouldn’t be using a toy, not when his Alpha’s cock was here for his use. To think of some _toy_ shoved in Draco’s hole, his warm slick gushing over it as he pumped it in and out trying to satisfy the need that only _Harry_ could provide...

“That won’t do,” Harry mumbled.

Harry slid his hands under Draco’s armpits, lifting him. He turned and sat on the bed, placing Draco face forward on his lap. 

“I’ve got an idea, little one. Why don’t you _show_ me how you take care of yourself during your heat? Only this time, there will be no _toys_ ,” he spat the word, still feeling jealous of an inanimate object, “use only your lovely fingers.”

Draco flushed. “I d-don’t know, sir...I’ve never... _been_ with anyone else...”

Harry hummed low in his throat, pressing his lips to the side of Draco’s throat. “ _Good_. I’m the only one you’ll ever be with, beautiful.”

Harry placed both his hands on Draco’s knees, lifting them and hooking them on either side of his outer thighs, spreading the boy wide atop his lap.

”A-all right...” Draco said softly.

”Go on then. I won’t repeat myself. Touch yourself— _inside_. I’m keen to see how my little Omega pleases himself when I’m not there to stuff you full of my cock.”

Draco shivered when Harry guided one of his trembling hands between his thighs. Harry’s hand engulfed the boy’s small, slender fingers.

Draco pressed his fingers to his hole, slipping the tips of index and middle finger easily past the tight ring of muscles. 

Harry clicked his tongue. “Already wet, are we? I’ve barely touched you. You must need this badly.”

Draco let out a high-pitched whimper as he began slowly pumping his fingers in and out of his hole, Harry’s long fingers wrapped around his wrist, setting the pace. 

Slick oozed from Draco’s hole, coating his hand and Harry’s fingers.

”Such a reaction. I didn’t expect you to be such a slut for it, little one. Let’s go deeper, hm?”

Harry tightened his hold on the boy’s wrist and rammed his fingers upwards, Draco’s wet hole eagerly sucking in more of his fingers.

Draco let out a choked sob, throwing his head back on Harry’s shoulder.

”P-please go slower, sir...it _hurts_ ,” Draco begged. 

“Do you think I _care_ if it hurts? So pathetic...just like your parents.”

Harry released his hold on the boy’s wrist and slid two of his own fingers into Draco’s stretched hole, curling them alongside Draco’s own fingers inside of his wet heat.

Harry began roughly pumping them in and out, spurred on by Draco’s sharp little whines of discomfort.

”My...my parents?” Draco asked drowsily.

“Mhm,” Harry hummed noncommittally.

“W-who are you?” Draco asked, letting out a sharp cry when Harry found his prostate.

”I’m your new owner, little one. Your master, your captor, and eventually...the father of your children.”

Draco’s slick was now dripping to the plush rug beneath their feet and Harry fought the urge to get to the floor and lick up the sweet nectar.

Their combined pheromones were drenching the air around them, muddling his brain and adding to his already dizzying state of arousal. 

Harry had never felt desire such as this. He wanted throw the boy back on the bed and _maim_ him. 

Eat out his hole, lick up all of that sugary slick and then sink his aching cock into that delectable fluttering hole.

Draco stiffened on Harry’s lap. ”My...my _children_?”

Harry licked the shell of his ear before whispering, “ _Our_ children, sweet one.”

Draco suddenly yanked his and Harry’s fingers from his hole and lurched out of his lap. He staggered forward before whipping around, his legs trembling. “W-who are you? Where am I?” he asked shakily.

Draco’s gray eyes appeared more alert now, the effects of the potion tapering off.

Harry sat motionless on the bed, staring at Draco’s naked body with narrowed eyes. “I’m Harry Potter. Your mother, Narcissa, has been taken prisoner by the British Ministry of Magic. She’s being transported to Azkaban as we speak.”

”Az—“ Draco pressed the back of his trembling hand to his lips. “You must bring me to her. I need to see her!” he shouted.

Harry let out a low chuckle. “You’ll never see her again, Draco. You belong to me now.”

”I don’t belong to anyone!” Draco glanced around and grabbed a candle holder from the windowsill. “L-let me go!”

Harry smirked and stood, his prick still painfully hard because of the cloying scent of Draco’s slick on his fingers and the floor.

”Do you intend to bludgeon me to death, Draco? By all means, have at it.”

Draco’s eyes darted nervously between Harry and the door of the bedroom. 

Harry tensed, excitement thrumming in his veins. “Go on, Draco. I won’t try to stop you.”

Draco lobbed the candleholder at Harry and sprinted towards the door. 

Harry effortlessly deflected the candleholder using his magic and lunged after Draco. He tackled the boy to the ground from behind, grabbing a handful of his blond hair and jerking back his head. 

“Naughty boy,” he hissed. “Attacking your Alpha and then attempting to escape me? There is no escape, Draco. You belong to _me_ now.”

Draco was crying, hot tears sliding down his cheeks and sticking to his blond lashes. “I-I don’t belong to you,” he sobbed brokenly.

Harry tugged at his hair, eliciting a pained gasp from Draco. “Oh, but you _do_ , Draco. Your body will be at my full disposal. Your womb will act as nothing but a vessel for my seed.”

Harry leaned down, pressing his lips to Draco’s ear. “And you will be nothing more than a _whore_ for me, spreading your legs every night until my seed quickens inside of you. When you become pregnant—and you _will_ —you’ll be indelibly tied to me for the rest of your miserable days.”

Draco shook his head as much as he could with Harry holding him by his hair. “I-I’d never let you be the father of my babies. You’re a—“ he hiccuped softly, “m-monster.”

Harry smiled cruelly. “That’s amusing to me, Draco. The son of two actual monsters calling me such a thing. You don’t know the meaning of the word, but I will show you just how _monstrous_ I can be.”

Harry reached into the pocket of his black blazer and retrieved a slim collar. He clamped it around Draco’s slender neck, giving it a experimental tug from behind.

The smooth, jeweled black surface shone under the light, a sharp contrast to Draco’s porcelain skin.

”What _is_ t-this?” Draco cried, trying to squirm away from Harry’s punishing grip.

“Do you like it, Draco? I made it myself. The metal of this collar was made using fire crab shells. Quite an illegal material to obtain, but necessary for my intended use. It will absorb and repress your magic and ensure that you remain docile while under my care, pet.”

Harry quickly stood, dragging Draco up by his hair. The boy let out a whimper, stumbling as Harry led him over to the bed. 

Harry threw the boy onto the bed and gathered both of his wrists one hand, stretching them over his head. He conjured rope and twined it through the metal bars of the headboard, tightening the knots until the rope dug into the skin of the boy’s delicate wrists.

”Now,” Harry said, “I’ll leave you here to get...accustomed to all of this delightful news. Maybe when you can behave, I’ll release you.”

Harry lowered his head until they were nose-to-nose. “Maybe if you’re sweet, I’ll let you suck my cock in apology,” he whispered.

Draco spit on his face, resentment burning in the gray depths of his eyes. “I’d never _willingly_ touch you!”

Harry smiled and nodded, wiping Draco’s saliva from his mouth and nose with his fingers.

“That’s fine. It doesn’t have to be consensual, you know. Your heat will be upon you soon, and I think it’s _you_ who will be begging for my touch, Draco.” 

Harry lifted his spit-covered fingers in front of Draco’s widening eyes and stuck them in his mouth, licking at Draco’s saliva and dried slick.

Harry let out a low groan.

”You should know that I love the taste of your hatred. It gets me hard, little one.”

With that, Harry waved a hand and snuffed out all light from the room. He turned and strode from the bedroom, slamming the door behind him and leaving Draco quietly sobbing in the pitch black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👀 are ya’ll liking my fic? Let me know. 🖤 do ya’ll hate Harry yet? Let me know LMAO


	3. Begging Burden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all hate Harry so much🧍🏻🔫 I couldn’t possibly make him anymore abhorrent...could I? 😏
> 
> BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE
> 
> I’ve been in a bad mood since quitting smoking, so this fic is my outlet LMAO SORRY GUYs
> 
> Thank you for all your comments and kudos. I love hearing your thoughts. 
> 
> 🖤🖤🖤

Draco shifted on the bed, the rope tethering his hands together digging into his skin with the movement.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but a rather somber looking house-elf named Kreacher would appear every so often and help Draco relieve himself and try to get him to eat.

_“You must eat, Mister Malfoy. If you do not eat, Master Harry will be upset, he will.”_

_“Do you think I really care if that brute is upset? I’d rather starve than see him again!”_

His voice had grown hoarse from yelling and his eyes were swollen from how much he’d been crying.

The skin around his wrists was now irritated and hurting, but he’d been given no reprieve from them even after he’d begged Kreacher to loosen the knots.

_“Master Harry says I am not to heal you, Mister Malfoy. Master told Kreacher to leave you tied to the bed and not to alleviate any of your discomfort.”_

The house-elf, Kreacher, had given him a thin pair of white pyjama bottoms to wear, but nothing else. After Kreacher would escort him to the loo and try to coax him to eat, he would use his magic to tie him to the bed again.

The terrible man hadn’t come back, but Draco could still smell him.

His heady scent was everywhere. It called out to Draco, his body reacting naturally to the man’s dominant pheromones. Draco knew his heat was close, the man’s scent seeming to exacerbate his symptoms. 

Draco didn’t want to admit it, but he would soothe himself to sleep by nuzzling against the sheets of the bed, seeking out the remnants of the Alpha’s musky scent. Though the scent was scant now, Draco’s anxiety would lessen enough to allow him to close his eyes for short amounts of time.

 _Harry’s_ scent.

Draco winced and let out a whimper, burying his nose into the crook of his outstretched arm.

The cruel man intended to rape him— _breed_ him and Draco was seeking out his scent as a balm for his frayed nerves.

He’d never been more disgusted with himself.

He’d never felt more helpless.

The collar around his neck wasn’t heavy, but he could feel it steadily draining his inherent magic.

If he tried to focus on using his magic, the collar would grow warm against his neck, absorbing his frenetic magic into the strange metal before he could even attempt to wield it.

Harry had taken away the only way of protecting himself against him. His magic was extension of his very _soul_ and Harry forcefully blocking it made him feel _wrong_.

It was as good as being neutered. He felt like dog, a _bitch_ more like _._ Maybe even lower.

At least a dog was able to choose it’s mating partner.

Draco knew his life as an Omega would be a difficult one. His unique ability to bear children would make him desperately desired by Alphas.

His mother had let him know as much. His mother had also told him that Omegas were rare, a gift to be treasured by the wizarding community. She had told him that many would vie for his affections, but only a worthy Alpha would be able to persuade him to mate for life.

He did not _feel_ treasured at the moment. He felt like a trapped animal, awaiting a most horrible fate that he knew would eventually befall him.

What would happen if Harry _was_ able to get him pregnant? Would he tear away his babe from his breast, keep the baby within arm’s reach as a means to get Draco to do as he wished?

Draco let out a despairing sob, the thought of his poor baby in the arms of a monstrous man like _Harry_. Not only that, he would be the biological _father_ of his child.

Draco had never even been _kissed_.

Even though the thought of Harry fucking him made him recoil with disgust, his body anticipated it. He was an Omega, and his body naturally yearned for an Alpha’s attention.

For the first time in his life, he cursed being an Omega.

If he had been an Alpha, maybe he could have protected his mother better. Maybe they both wouldn’t be in the situation they were now.

Draco knew what Harry wanted, but he didn’t know if he could actually go through with it while conscious. He knew that when his heat would take over, there wouldn’t be much of a choice at that point. He knew he would willingly spread his legs for Harry, eager for him to soothe the ache inside of him that only an Alpha could ease.

Even now, with Harry’s pheromones so prevalent in the air around him, his hole hadn’t stopped secreting slick. The sticky, warm substance oozed from his hole, coating his arse and inner thighs. 

His body was preparing to take Harry’s cock.

Draco knew that when he would go into heat, the amount slick his body produced would double and his skin would feel as if were on fire.

His heats had always been unbearably intense, so his mother had gone through the trouble of acquiring strong suppressants and home-made potions to get him through the worst of it.

Without his suppressants or potions, Draco would be nothing more than a whimpering whore, spreading his legs to invite any hard, thick cock in the vicinity to fuck the hurt out of him.

Or more specifically, _Harry’s_ cock.

He gritted his teeth, clamping his sticky thighs shut.

His magic flared because of his fear and arousal, making the collar around his throat almost unbearably hot against his skin.

When he willed it to slowly dissipate, he pathetically tucked his head against his arm, lulling himself to sleep using Harry’s scent again.

**XXX**

The overpowering scent of Harry’s pheromones made Draco open his sore eyes.

He craned his neck to the side, unwittingly sniffing the air to follow the intoxicating scent with his nostrils.

The heavy black drapes on the tall windows were slightly parted, letting him see that it was now dark out.

In the chair across from the bed, sat Harry.

“You’ve unknowingly been rocking your hips for the past hour, pet. Would you like me to _show_ you what your body is asking for?”

His face wasn’t visible from where Draco laid on the bed, swathed in shadows in the darkened room. His long legs were spread in front of him, his palms laid flat atop his thighs.

“Fuck you!” Draco shouted, scrambling to the side of the bed as much as the rope around his wrists would allow.

“Oh, I intend to, little one.” Harry paused for a moment, the silence hanging heavy in the air between them. “Kreacher tells me that you’re refusing to eat. How do you expect to carry my child if you do not nourish your own body?”

“I’d rather _die_ from hunger than allow you to be the father of my children!” Draco spat.

Harry was across the room and over Draco before he could blink, his long, calloused fingers wrapping around his throat just above his collar, pressing down.

“Take care with how you speak to me, Draco. Do not forget that your mother is in the Ministry’s clutches. If I wished it, I could make her stay at Azkaban much more…unpleasant.” Harry leaned down, running the tip of his nose against Draco’s jaw. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll rethink your harsh words. Perhaps your mother would like a visit from me. Azkaban is such a dreadfully desolate place after all. A word from me, and the Aurors on duty will make Narcissa their special project.”

Draco flinched, sucking in a sharp inhale. “P-please, sir. Don’t hurt her, I’ll be _good_. I promise, I’ll be good,” he begged softly.

Harry smiled against his jaw, his tongue flicking out to lick up the tear that had slid down Draco’s cheek. “Good.”

Harry stood from the bed, staring down at Draco as he silently sobbed. “You’re coming downstairs with me. You will eat and you _will_ keep it down.”

Draco turned away from him, his chest heaving with his silent cries.

Harry clicked his tongue. “No more tears. I’m growing tired of this little dejected performance.”

Harry reached down and loosened his restraints, pulling him up by one of his aching wrists. He tugged him close, and Draco was suddenly pressed against the man’s broad chest. He was much shorter than Harry, the top of his head only reaching the man’s collarbones.

Draco was loath to admit that the cruel man was roguishly handsome. His hard features and imposing presence _exuded_ Alpha dominance. With raven hair, olive skin, and a muscular form, he was what every Omega would yearn for in a mate.

The inherent Omega part of Draco keened in approval at the man towering over him. It recognized a worthy mate that could provide protection for him and any babes they would produce together.

The logical part of Draco recoiled in abject horror, wanting to get himself far away from this scary man and his proposed plans for his body.

But the Omega part of him seemed to be the dominant presence right now.

Once again, Harry’s Alpha pheromones surrounded him, lulling him into a false sense of security. He sniffled and pressed up to his tiptoes, reluctantly nuzzling up into Harry’s exposed throat, his lips seeking out Harry’s sun-kissed skin.

When his lips brushed against the side of Harry’s throat, a soft whine escaped Draco. It was pure instincts controlling him now. He wanted to be held and cared for as an Omega should be by his Alpha.

Harry stiffened.

“Do not think that you can seduce me, Draco. Your little Omega tactics will not work on me. The only use I have for you is with that wet hole between your legs and the fertile womb inside of you. Nothing more.”

Draco flushed and twisted his fingers into Harry’s black button-down, his legs trembling. Disgust and shame washed over him in hot, heavy mortifying waves.

Harry made him feel like the lowest, most degraded piece of filth there ever was.

He was sickened to realize that his prick was hard between his legs, trapped between both of them.

Draco tried to pull away from Harry but was harshly jerked back into his embrace.

“Now, now. Don’t be shy, little one. I didn’t say that I didn’t enjoy your pathetic attempts to seduce me. It’s quite amusing. Go on, touch me. I’ll show you just how unaffected I am.”

Harry jerked Draco’s hand upwards with his own, pressing his shaking fingers flush against his cheek.

Harry’s stubbled cheek was rough beneath his palm, his whiskers abrading the soft flesh of his hand. He let his fingers slide upwards, towards Harry’s hairline. He buried the tips of his fingers into the man’s thick, black hair before he quickly slid his hand back down.

All the while, Harry watched him with those cold, detached emerald eyes.

Draco let his thumb brush against the edge of Harry’s lips, surprised to feel how soft they felt. He let his hand slide lower, his fingers encircling the man’s muscular throat. When Draco’s fingertips brushed against one of Harry’s scent glands, he snatched Draco’s hand away.

Draco let out tiny gasp, his eyes snapping up to connect with Harry’s.

Harry was glowering down at him with hardened eyes, his lips set in a grim line. “Like I said, don’t think you can weaponize your body against me, Draco. The only thing you’ll give me is children, and the only thing you’ll get from me is my cum. There will be nothing else connecting us.”

Harry’s crude words made Draco’s face suffuse with heat, unused to someone talking so crassly in front of him. He was even more mortified when a fresh gush of slick seeped from his hole, wetting the crotch of his pyjama pants.

Harry’s nostrils flared, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “Come now, pet. After you eat, you’re to go back to bed until your next heat.”

“Y-you expect me to just _lie_ here and wait for y-you to _rape_ me?” Draco stammered.

Harry smirked, his eyes darkening. “I expect you to wait for me like a good little Omega.” He leaned down, pressing his lips against Draco’s ear. “And I expect you to keep those pretty pale thighs spread wide, awaiting my knot to fill that slutty little hole with my seed.”

Before Draco could react, he was yanked in front of Harry, clumsily stumbling due to not being on his feet for so long.

“Now walk, Draco.”

 **XXX**

Draco made his way down the stairs, Harry’s menacing presence at his back.

He quietly observed his surroundings from under his lashes, mapping out any escape routes if the chance was provided to him.

Harry’s house was like the man himself, imposing and dark.

Varying shades of black, dark purple, and maroon were the color choice of decoration it seemed. Heavy velvet drapes covered every window, blocking Draco from the outside world.

Several large framed paintings adorned the corridor walls. Witches and wizards with dark hair and eyes stared down at him with disdain, the pallor of their skin the only brightness in the paintings. The house seemed to exude sadness, the bleak atmosphere only making Draco feel more hopeless and alone.

Draco was in desperate need of a shower, his long, sweat-dampened hair consistently falling into his eyes. He wondered if the bastard would be kind enough to give him a hair tie, but Harry would probably think he’d use it asphyxiate him somehow.

He lost himself in the fantasy of choking the large Alpha to death for a moment, a small smile curling his lips at the mental image.

When they reached a lower level, Harry steered Draco into a kitchen.

The kitchen at least had more lighting than the rest of the house, even if it was artificial. Three pendant lights hung from the ceiling above the long, wooden table, a decorative bronze cage enclosing the lightbulbs within.

“Sit. Stay,” Harry commanded, pressing Draco down by his shoulders into once of the vacant chairs in front of the table.

Draco sat, bristling at being ordered around like a dog. He kept his eyes on Harry as he walked over and disappeared into a room at the back of the kitchen.

Draco was still shirtless and the room was cold. He hugged himself, rubbing at his exposed arms. Harry had probably left him half-naked on purpose, wanting him to feel as vulnerable as possible in his presence. 

He glanced around, looking for a weapon. There was a magnetic knife holder above the industrial looking stove. The knives stuck to the magnetic strip glinted under the soft light from above, seeming to taunt Draco with their proximity.

Maybe if he could grab one, he could—

A plate and a glass of water landed in front of him on the table. A fork and spoon were tucked to the side of the plate. It was a simple meal of eggs, bacon, and oatmeal.

Harry sat across from him at the table, eyeing Draco with detached interest. “I’m afraid it’s gone cold since Kreacher prepared it this morning. You were throwing one of your stubborn fits, refusing to eat.”

Harry let his hand glide across the air above the plate of food, steam immediately wafting up when he pulled his hand back.

He tapped his index finger on the table in front of the plate. “Eat. _Now_.”

Draco reluctantly tucked in, choosing to eat the oatmeal first. The warm food against his tongue reminded him of how hungry he actually was. He began eating in earnest, ignoring Harry’s unnerving eyes on him.

After he had cleaned the bowl of oatmeal, he eyed Harry from under his lashes across the table. The food settling in his stomach seemed to give him a jolt of courage. “So, what do you do when you’re not forcing people to have sex with you?”

Harry stared at him for a moment before giving a low chuckle. “We’re really going have to train that mouth of yours, but for now, I’ll let it slide since you’re eating. When I’m not tying disobedient Omegas to my bed, I’m a writer, Draco.”

Draco’s eyes widened in surprise.

“What?” Harry asked, smirking. “Did you think I spent my free time like Vlad the Impaler, staking the heads of petulant Omegas in the ground in front of my home?”

Draco snorted delicately, taking a bite of bacon and chewing angrily before swallowing. “That would make more sense, yeah,” he mumbled before taking a bite of toast.

“Sorry to disappoint, little one,” Harry said dryly.

Draco chewed in silence for a moment before blurting, “How do you know my parents? You mentioned my parents when you were…” Draco blushed hotly, thinking of Harry’s fingers between his thighs, “ _Inside_ of me,” he finished weakly.

Harry seemed amused at his reaction but sighed exaggeratedly. “Let’s just say your parents and I have a convoluted history. Your father was a pompous oaf who got what he deserved.”

“I never knew him,” Draco said softly.

Harry was silent for a moment, his green eyes boring into Draco. “Well, consider yourself lucky, little one.”

Draco continued to eat his food, an awkward silence following. 

Harry cleared his throat.  
  
“Your magic is rudimentary at best. It’s obvious you didn’t attend any Wizarding school while under your mother’s care. Your attempts to escape the French Ministry of Magic was quite amusing to hear about.”

Draco felt a flare of irritation at Harry’s callous words. “My mother home schooled me. When my magic manifested, she did her best to teach me how to control and hone it.”

”Ah. Clever Narcissa. She’s always been a cunning snake.”

“My mother is a good woman!” Draco yelled indignantly. “I don’t know why the Ministry would take her to Azkaban. It doesn’t make sense to me. She always did her best to protect and care for me.”

Harry barked out a low laugh. “A _good_ woman. You have no idea how obstinate you sound, protecting that wretch of a woman.”

“My mother is a good person! You don’t know her like I do. She’s all I have, and you took me away from her!”

Harry only stared at him with that infuriating indifferent expression.

“You know, you can make this simple or difficult, Draco. If you do as I want without putting up a fight, I’ll reward you. If you continue to defy me at every turn, I can make you suffer.”

Draco took a sip of water, glaring at Harry. “You’re already making me suffer, _sir_.”

Harry arched one dark brow. “I don’t think you have a grasp on certain words you carelessly throw about. _Monster_ , _suffering_ ,” Harry scoffed. “You don’t know what _suffering_ really is.”

Draco slammed his glass down on the table. “You are a monster! You’re using my mother’s _suffering_ as blackmail against me and only a _monster_ would do something like that!” He crossed his arms over his chest, anger burning in his throat. “There, did I _use_ those words correctly, Mr. Potter?”

Harry stood and slowly walked around the table, stopping directly in front of Draco. His pheromones permeated the air, thick and dominating.

Draco whimpered and instinctually bared the side of his throat submissively, his Omega instincts on high alert around the clearly angry Alpha.

Harry let out an amused huff of air. “So responsive. I haven’t even touched you yet and your body already knows who the one in control is.”

Draco clenched his teeth, staring at the wall across from him.

Harry grabbed his chin with his fingers and tilted his head up. “You’ll beg for it, Draco. You will beg for me to fuck you and when you do, I’ll make sure to make you _suffer_ before I give you what you want.” Harry let his thumb glide over Draco’s lower lip in a taunting caress. “Only I can give you what your body craves and your stomach will eventually swell with the child only _I_ can provide. I can smell the slick between your legs, little one. Even if your mind doesn’t want me, your _body_ certainly does.”

Draco jerked his chin from his grasp. “I’d never beg for you! I’d rather be raped by a room full of faceless Alphas than willingly give my body or my child to _you_ ,” he hissed vehemently.

Harry went rigid above him, the skin next to his eye twitching.

Harry swept the dishes on the table to the floor with one arm. They crashed to the tiled floor next to Draco’s bare feet, making him flinch.

Harry grabbed Draco’s throat above his collar with one hand, lifting him from his seat. Draco clawed uselessly at the strong fingers around his throat, his airway cut off. 

He slammed Draco down against the table, his vision briefly blackening around the edges when his skull made harsh impact with the hard surface.

Harry wedged himself between Draco’s legs, his erection pressing between his cheeks.

”A room _full_ of faceless Alphas, you say?” Harry hissed.

Harry loosened his hold enough to allow Draco some air. He sucked in a deep mouthful of oxygen, a choked sob escaping him.

”There will be no others but _me_ , boy.” Harry folded himself over Draco’s struggling form and sank his teeth into his scent gland on the side of his neck.

Draco let loose a high-pitched whine, his body going pliant under his Alpha’s claiming bite. 

There was no pleasure in it, only pain.

A hot trickle of blood slid down the side of Draco’s throat, becoming trapped under his collar. Harry pulled back and lapped at the droplets of blood, the chemicals in his saliva closing the wound as he laved it with his tongue.   
  
When it was no longer bleeding, Harry pulled back and ripped off Draco’s pyjama bottoms with his hands. He pressed Draco’s knees back until he was almost folded in half atop the table, cool air against his wet, exposed hole.

He was ashamed to feel even more slick trickle from his hole, dripping to the floor between Harry’s feet.

Harry let out a low chuckle. “At least one part of you is happy to have me, little one.”

Draco blushed and closed his eyes, turning his head away. “S-stop it, _please_.”

Harry pressed a finger against Draco’s twitching hole, pressing in. It made an obscene squelching noise that had Draco’s cheeks heating even more.

”Don’t worry, pet. I won’t fuck you yet, but I will show you just how responsive you can be to my touch.”

Harry curled his finger inside of him pressed down, making Draco moan loudly.

”Like that, do you?” Harry purred.

Draco shook his head, biting his lower lip between his teeth to stave off anymore embarrassing sounds from leaving his throat.

Harry narrowed his eyes and pulled out his slick-coated finger before lowering his head between Draco’s legs. Without any preamble, he swiped his tongue up Draco’s hole, collecting the leaking slick into his mouth. 

“ _Fuck_ —so sweet,” Harry groaned, returning his hot tongue to Draco’s hole.

Draco spread his legs wider with a whimper, Harry’s tongue slipping past the tight ring of muscles.

Harry sucked and licked at his hole, his long fingers still pressing his legs back. 

“N-no more, it’s too much!” Draco whined.

Draco made a feeble attempt to push his head away but Harry let out a low warning growl, making Draco clasp his hands to his chest in fear.

Harry licked up his hole, his tongue laving Draco’s perineum with long, wet licks and then doing the same to his swollen sac. 

Draco undulated atop the table, his little broken sobs and whimpers the only sounds in the kitchen accompanying the obscene sounds of Harry’s tongue against his slick-covered genitals.

”Stop, p-please, I’ll come if you keep—“

Draco’s pleading was cut off with a sharp gasp when Harry released his grip on one of his legs and shoved two of his fingers into his hole. 

“Beg me, little one. Beg me for your release,” Harry snarled against his skin.

Harry sucked Draco’s cock into the heat of his mouth, swallowing his small cock all the way to hilt.

“ _Please_!” Draco cried out, his toes curling while he writhed atop the table.

Harry shoved a third finger into Draco’s stretched hole and flattened his tongue under his prick at the same time, teasing the sensitive skin on the underside of his shaft with slow, languid licks without abating the rapturous suction of his mouth.

” _I’m coming, I’m coming_ ,” Draco chanted nonsensically, burrowing his fingers into Harry’s black hair and tugging.

Draco let out a sharp cry before spraying his cum into the back of Harry’s throat, his back arching off the table with the force of his orgasm.

He felt excess slick gush out of his pulsating hole around Harry’s pistoning fingers, his channel sucking those thick digits even deeper and earning a low growl from Harry that reverberated around Draco’s cock.

Harry swallowed it all, his green eyes never leaving Draco’s as he came down, his chest rising and falling in quick, shallow pants.

When Draco was wrung out, Harry pulled his fingers and mouth away, a smug smile on his lips.

”Looks like you’re the one who ended up begging, pet,” he taunted.

Harry’s callous words make Draco’s post-orgasm bliss shrivel and wilt, his heart clenching at his Alpha’s deliberate cruelty. 

Harry’s bite upon his throat throbbed painfully, needing his Alpha’s healing tongue to ease it.

Everything felt so _wrong_ and Draco felt rejection, the Omega inside of him wanting to prostrate himself at Harry’s feet and beg for affection. 

Even though his body was sated, Draco instinctually knew the ritual wasn’t complete.

He knew that Harry was denying him the attention and worship he needed as Omega to thrive after a mating bite, and it infuriated him while simultaneously making him feel a gaping _need_ for his Alpha’s acceptance.

It was worse than anything Harry could physically torture him with and that’s when Draco snapped, his instincts screaming with rejection from his Alpha.

Draco let out a choked whine and lunged at Harry.

Harry caught him by his upper arms and lifted him until his feet no longer touched the ground. 

“What’s this now?” Harry chuckled in bemusement.

Draco thrashed in his hold, glaring up at Harry with undisguised malice. “I _hate_ you! I want nothing more than to see you dead!”   
  
Draco thought he saw a flicker of _something_ in Harry’s green gaze, but it was gone before he could decipher what exactly it was.

Harry dropped Draco and he fell to the floor, a sobbing crumple of pale limbs and hair.

“Is that so?” Harry asked, a predatory edge to his voice.

Harry used _Accio_ on one of the knives from the magnetic strip above the stove and it flew to his open hand. He promptly dropped it and it clattered to the floor in front of Draco.

When Draco just stared blankly at it with hot tears silently streaming down his cheeks, Harry kicked it forward and it slid closer to Draco.

”Well, go on then. I saw you eyeing them earlier. Pick it up, little one. Slash into my throat using all of that hate you claim to have for me.”

Draco picked up the knife with a shaky hand, brandishing it. He pulled himself up on unsteady legs, feeling ridiculously vulnerable standing naked in front of his terrifying Alpha.

Harry arched one dark brow, smirking down at him.

”I’m waiting, Draco.”

Draco clenched his teeth and raised the knife, pressing the tip against Harry’s heart.

The knife wobbled in his trembling hands and Draco screamed in frustration.

As a claimed Omega, he wouldn’t be able to injure his Alpha. His instincts wouldn’t allow it.

“I-I _can’t_! I can’t hurt you, you hideous monster! Just let me go, I don’t want to mate with you!”

Harry stared down at him with hooded eyes, that indifferent mask firmly in place. 

“That’s right, Draco. I _own_ you. Resign yourself to the fact that I will be the one to breed you.”

Harry grabbed the knife from Draco and carelessly tossed it to the side.

Draco was openly sobbing now, hugging his arms tight around himself trying to self-soothe without his Alpha’s needed affections.

Harry scooped him up and Draco reluctantly nuzzled up into his throat, staining Harry’s black button-down with hot tears. Harry allowed it, lowering his head to allow Draco better access to his scent glands. 

“That’s my good boy,” Harry praised, his words a low murmur. 

Draco let out a relieved hiccup and burrowed closer, feeling some relief as Harry’s pheromones calmed him.

Harry’s lips smelled of Draco’s cum and slick and Draco felt a twisted sort of instinctual satisfaction that his Alpha smelled of his juices.

”Time for bed, little one. You need rest before your heat. I think we’ve had enough dramatics for one day.”

Draco felt resentment and longing burn deep inside him, Harry’s pheromones making his head fuzzy and light.

”I _do_ hate you,” he whispered against his neck.

Harry was silent for a moment before replying, “It doesn’t matter. Your body is all I need, not your acceptance.”

Harry carried Draco from the kitchen and up the stairs.

Draco fell into an exhausted sleep before they even reached the bedroom.


	4. Desired Burden

Harry sat at his kitchen table, a still burning cigarette between his lips.

He held the Daily Prophet, his eyes narrowing.

There were multiple mentions of newly pregnant Omegas due to Kingsley’s new breeding law. 

On the front page, however, was an article dedicated to Narcissa Malfoy’s capture. 

A disheveled Narcissa was depicted beside the article, her almost fully white hair tangled and dark circles beneath her eyes. Harry took a long drag of his cigarette, a satisfied smile curling his lips. 

The pure-blooded bitch was finally getting what she deserved. Harry already had plans in place for when Draco became pregnant with his child. He planned to Apparate to Azkaban and pay a visit to the future grandmother of his child.

He would tell Narcissa about everything he had made Draco suffer through, and then to really lay the killing blow, he would show her pictures of her grandchild. He would delight in telling the wretch how he was the father and _he_ would be the one to raise the child.

And the many more children he would make Draco beget in the near future.

And tell her how she would never see those children or Draco ever again.

To quell the Alpha instincts that roared inside of his mind at the thought of intentionally harming his Omega mate, he closed his eyes and carded through the memories of his family and friends that had suffered and died due to Draco’s family’s involvement with Voldemort.

Albus, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Fred, Hedwig.

His own _parents_.

Like a festering wound that continued to pulsate within him, the resentment and anger made the edges of the wound throb, begging to fed.

Fed using Draco’s sweet suffering.

With his hatred burning away any niggling feelings of instinctual protectiveness, he took a long drag of his cigarette.

Harry blew a plume of smoke against the front of the Prophet, his insides twisting with pleasure as he watched the wisps of smoke curl around Narcissa’s regal features. 

Everything was falling into place. 

Even though Harry could resist Draco’s Omega pheromones, it didn’t lessen the violent yearning that snapped at his subconscious with a serrated maw and a tenacity that would almost bring him to his knees at times.

Even now, Draco’s scent saturated the air around him. It smelled divine to Harry, calling forth every one of his animalistic Alpha traits to the surface.

Draco’s cloying scent had only grown dizzyingly sweeter the past few days, his body readying for his impending heat.

At night, it took all of Harry’s willpower to not go to the needy Omega.

Harry’s body was always ready for Draco, spurred on by his scent and needy, pleading whimpers that seemed to resound throughout the entire house and Harry’s chaotic mind.

At night, he would take a Dreamless Sleep potion, trying to escape the incessant thoughts and urgent need that all centered around his captive Omega.

His cock was always hard and leaking, needing to fuck, to breed, to _please_.

With Draco’s heat so close, Harry was nigh mad with effects it was having upon his body.

Just last night, Draco had reduced to audibly begging for Harry’s presence.

The boy’s pleas seemed to reverberate throughout his fucking skull, coaxing him even from such a distance.

Harry had ordered Kreacher to care for the boy until his heat was fully upon him. He didn’t trust himself around Draco right now. 

Harry had one objective: fuck the boy once and get him pregnant.

The beast inside of him howled with despair at the thought of only taking Draco _one_ time.

He’d only let himself slip into the boy’s room one time this week. Draco had been asleep, his lovely face relaxed while in repose. Harry could see how swollen his eyes had become from crying all the time. Unable to help himself, he’d leaned down and lapped at the boy’s eyes, the need to heal his hurt unable to be repressed when he was laying right in front of him.

Draco had sleepily turned his face towards Harry’s wet tongue, a small furrow appearing between the boy’s pale brows. When a contented sigh had escaped the boy’s parted lips, Harry had felt a swell of pride and arousal.

His Omega needed _him_ , needed his cock for breeding and needed the healing properties that only _Harry’s_ saliva could provide.

Harry had just been barely able to stop himself from lapping at the boy’s reddened wrists, getting a hold of himself just before his tongue could touch the irritated skin.

He had lurched backwards, pressing himself against the wall on the other side of the bed.

Draco had let out a whine, shifting restlessly on the bed, seeking out more of Harry’s comforting licks.

Draco had lifted one pale leg, unknowingly baring himself to Harry.

When Harry had seen the glistening slick coating Draco’s arse and inner thighs, he had released a low groan, his cock unbearably hard beneath his trousers.

Before he had left the room, he had taken one of Draco’s pillowcases. It had been covered in his scent, the scent of his slick also blessedly still prevalent upon it.

That night, Harry had wanked off holding the pillowcase to his nose, inhaling Draco’s scent to push him towards climax.

Just before he had shot his load, he’d sunk his teeth into the wrist of his hand holding the thin fabric, imagining it was the pale column of Draco’s throat. When his own blood had welled, he’d eagerly lapped it up as if he were fucking starving for the taste of the boy.

After he had come, he had been disgusted with himself. He’d let his baser urges take over and for none other than the bastard child of Lucius Malfoy.

He’d cast _Incendio_ on the pillowcase and watched with perverse satisfaction as the fire burned away all remanants of Draco’s scent and evidence of Harry’s shame.

This was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid for most of his adult life. Being a slave to his Alpha instincts, wanting nothing more but to please and impress his delicate Omega mate.

Wanting nothing more than to see the boy’s pale, flat stomach swell with his seed until the boy was filled with nothing but _Harry_.

He angrily snapped the Prophet closed, slamming it down on the table.

”These fucking intrusive thoughts,” Harry murmured, realizing that his cigarette had been burned down to the filter.

He stubbed it out in his ashtray, raising a brow when Kreacher appeared next to him.

”Miss Hermione is here to see Master Harry,” Kreacher announced.

Harry stood and ran a hand through his hair. “Kreacher, go put scent and sound blocking spells around the boy’s room. _Now_.”

Kreacher nodded solemnly. “As you wish, Master Harry.” The house-elf disappeared. 

Harry sighed, straightening his black jumper.

If anyone would be able to tell that something was amiss with Harry, it would be Hermione. The brilliant witch had a penchant for figuring out unsolvable puzzles, so Harry would have to put on the best performance of his life.

He took out his wand and aimed it at himself, letting the tip hover over his throat and then down to his feet, casting a scent erasing spell. Hopefully the keen witch wouldn’t be able to smell any traces of Draco’s distress upon him.

He rearranged his features, slipping into the persona of congenial host. With his mask firmly in place, he made his way to the Floo.

**XXX**

“Uncle Harry!”

Harry barely had time to react as Hermione’s daughter, Rose, barreled into him from out of the emerald flames of the Floo.

Harry chuckled and swung the young girl up into his arms.

She had Ron’s red hair and Hermione’s inquisitive umber eyes.

Harry idly wondered what his and Draco’s offspring would look like. Would they resemble Draco, having pale hair and eyes? Or would his mother’s emerald eyes be passed on to his child?

The Alpha inside of him rumbled with satisfaction at the thought.

”Hello, sweetling,” Harry cooed.

“I got a cut on my elbow, look!” Rose pressed one of her small elbows in Harry’s face.

A thin, almost nonexistent laceration was on her elbow.

Harry examined it closely with mock concern. “Hmm. It looks pretty severe, dove. Perhaps we should operate?” 

Rose giggled and shook her head, her long red hair swaying with the movement. “You don’t operate on small cuts, Harry! You kiss them better!”

Harry arched a brow, feigning deep concern. “Ah, you’re absolutely right, dove. Bring it closer, I’ll kiss it better.” 

Rose grinned and pressed her elbow close to Harry’s mouth.

Harry playfully nipped at the air in front of her elbow, earning high-pitched squeal from Rose.

“Really, Rose, you never grow tired of him doing that, do you?” Hermione asked, stepping from the flaring flames of the Floo behind them.

”Hello, Hermione. I was just about to operate on this pitiful little wounded witch.”

” _No_!” Rose shouted in mock horror, trying to wriggle from Harry’s arms.

”Alas, I’ll have to operate another day,” Harry sighed exaggeratedly, placing Rose on her feet.

Harry knelt in front of Rose. ”Why don’t you go ask Kreacher to make us some tea, dove?”

”Okay! Can I go say hi to Kreacher, Mummy?”

Hermione smiled down at Rose. “You can go say hi, but don’t bother him too much, darling.”

”I promise I won’t bother him!” Rose zipped from the room before Hermione could say anything else.

Harry grinned and stood, watching as the effervescent child disappeared around the corner. 

Hermione sighed and sat on the sofa. “I can’t keep up with her anymore. She’s like a bullet, that one.”

Harry next to her, crossing an ankle over his knee. “She’s cute.”

Hermione let a dry bark of laughter. “You’d pick another adjective if you had to live with her.” She smiled warmly. “But she does a good job of cheering us up when we’re in foul moods.”

”Her happiness is quite contagious, isn’t it?” Harry asked.

Hermione eyed him curiously. “You’ve always been good with children. Patient, I mean. That’s usually a skill acquired _after_ having a child, over time. It always came naturally to you.”

Harry shrugged. “Children are honest and open creatures. If you show them kindness, they’ll return it tenfold. Not like adults, so jaded and guarded. With children, I’ve always been comfortable because they’re completely honest with their emotions. Quite a rare thing that is for adults.”

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. “That’s an acute observation. Speaking of children, that’s why I popped by. Ron told me about Narcissa and her son. Do you want to tell me why you volunteered to take him in?”

Harry schooled his expression into one of deep thought. “Well, I’m growing older. You’re one of the ones always hounding me to settle down and start a family.”

Hermione snorted delicately, turning to arch a brow at him. “Yes, but with _Narcissa’s_ son? You must know how out of character that would seem to Ron and I.”

”It seems he had no knowledge of his parents’...activities. His obliviousness almost seems _too_ innocuous.”

_”I never knew him.”_

Draco’s admission about never knowing Lucius echoed in his head.

Was the boy telling the truth?   
  
It was almost impossible to believe that Narcissa would never mention the Malfoy lineage and all of their illicit involvements. 

_“I never knew him.”_

Harry winced inwardly. 

Draco had to be lying to him. There was no other explanation. 

Perhaps he would cast _Legilimency_ on the boy... 

Hermione cleared her throat, breaking Harry from his thoughts.

”Perhaps Narcissa chose to shield him from that part of her life. As a mother, I could understand. A good parent would want the best for their children. Maybe she thought it would be better if Draco never found out about them being Death Eaters at one time.”

Harry scoffed. “She’s _still_ a Death Eater, ‘Mione. Just because she fucked off after the War to play Mummy for sixteen years, doesn’t make her a saint all of the sudden.”

Hermione turned to glare at him. “I’m not downplaying her involvement as a Death Eater during the War _or_ after, I’m just saying that when you have children, it brings a lot of things into perspective.” Hermione sighed. “They bring the good out of you, even if you thought there never was any to begin with...”

Harry placed his hand over Hermione’s in between them on the sofa. “You’ve been good your entire life, ‘Mione. Ron can attest to that.”

Hermione smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You’ll understand when you have children, Harry. You’d do anything for them. _Be_ anything for them. That’s all I was trying to say.”

”Hermione...”

The clever witch smiled brightly at him. “Where is Draco at anyway? I wanted to meet him. If he’s to be your mate, I’d love to speak with him. I could help him through any questions he has about pregnancy or whatnot. I’m sure he’s feeling awfully out of place here and we should try to help get more comfortable.”

Harry smiled back, trying not to give anything away. “He’s sleeping. He’s about to go through his heat, so he’s been dreadfully tired.”

“Ah, well, I understand that. He’ll need all of your support during that time. If I didn’t have Ron, I don’t know what would become of me during my heats. It’s no fun to have absolutely no control over your body.”

There was a infinitesimal flicker of _something_ within Harry. In any other person, he would have called it guilt, but he discarded that notion as soon as it dissipated.

”Yes,” he said slowly. “Luckily, I’m here for him.”

”You’ll let me know when he’s ready to converse? I know if he gets pregnant, he’ll be whisked away to St Mungo’s for numerous appointments.” She gave a mock shudder. “I don’t miss that. Especially under the Ministry’s scrutiny with the new breeding law.”

“Of course. I’ll let him know you came by whenever he wakes up.”

Hermione smiled and reached forward, tucking an errant strand of his hair back. 

“You’ll be a good mate, Harry. You’ve always been a natural protector.”

Harry smiled back at his best friend, uncomfortable with being untruthful with her. In this, Hermione wouldn’t understand. 

It was true, what he had said. Hermione had always been an inherently good person. She didn’t feel resentment or anger against Draco as a person because it wasn’t who she was. She had always accepted others without judgement and that was one of the reasons Harry loved her as a friend.

Harry’s hatred for Lucius and Narcissa was something she wouldn’t be able to understand. 

Something had happened to Harry.

He didn’t know if it had happened during the War or under the callous care of the Dursley’s during his youth. Perhaps it happened even farther back than that.

Something had been irreparably damaged within him. Something he didn’t know he if he could ever be able to fix.

In this, they were divided.

Maybe one day she would understand, but not now.

He gave her a wan smile.

”I’ll try my best, Hermione.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOT YA’LL HOPING HARRY WILL GET CAUGHT LMAO. 
> 
> Should I just light Harry on fire in the next chapter? Would that satisfy ya’ll lmaoooooooo.
> 
> No but for real, thank you for all your feedback. Love hearing your thoughts. 🖤 
> 
> I kinda just wanted to write this chapter to give you an insight to Harry’s thoughts regarding Draco.
> 
> Next chapter: Draco goes into heat. 👀


	5. Craved Burden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TW** :This chapter contains rape and abusive behavior.
> 
> Note: Sorry if I made editing mistakes, I wrote most of this on my breaks at work. Lmao.

_Burning_.

Draco felt as if his entire body was encompassed in flames.

The flames licked at all of his erogenous zones: his pert nipples, his swollen lips, his aching cock, and his _empty_ , wet hole.

The heat seared beneath skin, hot and _angry_.

The sodding house-elf had allowed him to take a shower the day before, supervising his every move. When he’d been brought back to his room, he’d been denied clothes.

Truthfully, he was glad he was naked right now. With the unforgiving heat suffusing every inch of skin, he felt unbearably hot.

His throbbing hole hadn’t stopped secreting slick since the unforgiving heat had taken over his body. The sheets beneath him were drenched, sodden with copious amounts of his own leaked slick and sweat.

The rope painfully tethering his hands to the bed frame didn’t even phase him anymore, his heat overpowering that trivial ache with waves of excruciating heat that seemed to radiate from his groin and hole.

For the umpteenth time, he smothered the urge to cry out for Harry.

His body instinctually _knew_ that the Alpha was nearby, his musky pheromones present in the air around him. The Alpha’s pheromones only exacerbated his heat, his hole wet and dripping slick in preparation for Harry’s cock.

His prick had been hard since his heat had started. The amount of pre-cum that had leaked from his slit and covered his cock had pooled at the base of his shaft, sliding down his bollocks and mixing with the warm slick coating his hole and inner thighs.

Everything on his body was _hurting_ and it only worsened as time went on.

Even though he was able to resist calling out for Harry, his body was emitting pheromones against his will in heavy, hot waves. His body was calling out to his Alpha— soundlessly _begging_ him for what only Harry could provide. 

Another wave of burning heat hit, making saliva pool in Draco’s mouth and slick gush from his hole.

Draco gritted his teeth and turned his head, sinking his teeth into the fleshy part of his outstretched bicep. The needed pain made the heat momentarily abate and Draco whimpered with temporary relief, digging his heels into the bed. 

He knew that it wouldn’t be much longer before his body won out and he would be reduced to nothing but a keening, begging _slut_.

Nothing but a hole waiting to be filled, yearning to be _bred_.

He let out a strangled sob, unable to accept the inevitable.

It wasn’t the impending rape that Draco was most upset about. While it did make him feel disgusting and ashamed, it wasn’t what he was most worried about.

The thought of getting pregnant by that _awful_ man was his biggest concern.

If Draco became pregnant, that would seal his fate.

He would be a slave to Harry. 

He knew that a pregnant Omega needed their mate, _especially_ in the Wizarding World. Draco and the innocent baby that would grow in his womb would be dependent on Harry. The fetus would need Harry’s magic near it at all times.

Draco knew his mother’s pregnancy with him had only worked because she had left his father late in the pregnancy. Potions containing his father’s own unique magic essence had attributed to his fetal growth in his mother’s last month of being pregnant with him. She had told him that there were many times she was scared she would lose him, but by some miracle he had survived.

Is this what he survived for? To be raped and bred like chattel? 

Did all Omegas feel this helpless to their inherent nature?

Could he love his child if it came out looking like _Harry_?  
  
Tears streamed down his face, a choked hiccup escaping him. 

_Of course he would_ , he thought bitterly.

He would do anything for any children he was able to grow inside of him. His Omega nature would make him immediately love it and want to protect it. 

_His precious baby_.

Even if their _father_ was the Devil himself.

Draco closed his eyes, trying to recede into himself.   
  
He had to survive Harry. He had to do as he wished. _If_ he became pregnant, he could hatch a plan to escape with his baby. He couldn’t let someone like _Harry_ have anything to do with his child’s upbringing.

The Omega in him rebelled at that idea, hissing at the idea of willingly leaving his Alpha mate.

He had no other _choice_!

Harry wasn’t providing him any. Perhaps he never would as a mate.

Another wave of searing heat washed over him, his thighs clamping shut, sticking together due to all of the slick seeping from his hole. He sucked in a sharp inhale through his gritted teeth, screwing his eyes shut even further.

It wouldn’t be long now.

The only warning Draco had was the overpowering presence of Harry’s pheromones attacking him from all angles, loosening his limbs and making his prick leak even more pre-cum before he heard the hated man’s voice.

“Well, well,” Harry said smugly, “such a lovely sight to greet me.”

Draco reluctantly opened his eyes.

Harry stood at the end of the bed, his eyes darkening as they raked over Draco.

He looked refined and composed, his arms crossed over his broad chest. 

Harry was dressed in a dark gray button-down that hugged his muscular arms and chest. His long legs were encased in fitted black trousers, drawing Draco’s gaze between his legs.

Harry’s cock was hard, pressing against the leg of his trousers. It was long and thick, the enticing edges noticeable against the thin fabric. Draco was ashamed to feel saliva flood his mouth at the sight.

“Like what you see, little one?” Harry teased, drawing Draco’s eyes back up.

His raven hair was in fetching disarray, framing his roguishly handsome features. His green eyes were narrowed, a smirk curling his full lips.

Draco wished Harry had been ugly.

Maybe if he had been ugly, it would have made his hatred burn that much hotter.

Harry was not ugly. He was far from it.

Even though Draco would never admit it, the cruel man was _ruthlessly_ handsome.

Harry was what every Omega dreamed of in a mate: strong, attractive, and virile.

If only the outside matched the inside.

Inside, Draco imagined the cold man as a rotting carcass. His heart was probably shrunk and wilted from years of disuse and repression.

“It’s because of you, you know.”

Harry slowly made his way around the bed, his gait predatory. 

Draco’s trembling worsened, his fear and arousal warring inside of him. 

“My cock has been unflinchingly _hard_ since you went into heat this morning.”

Harry stopped beside him on the bed and leaned down. 

Draco wrenched his face to the side, burying his nose into the crook of his outstretched arm.

Harry let out a low chuckle, pressing his lips against Draco’s warm ear. “I could smell you all day, Draco. It wasn’t your normal scent, no. Do you want to know how I knew you went into heat?” he whispered, letting his tongue briefly flick out to lick Draco’s earlobe.

An involuntary whimper escaped Draco.

He could feel Harry lips stretch into a smile against his skin.

“I knew you went into heat because your scent _intensified_ , Draco. My cock reacted to your desperate little Omega pheromones. I’ve been fucking hard all day, wanting to sink my prick into that wet, sugary smelling hole.”

Draco vehemently shook his head, damp strands of his hair sticking to his cheeks and lips. “N-no. You’re a horrible p-person I don’t _want_ you—I don’t _love_ you!”

Harry let out an amused huff of air against Draco’s ear, making him shiver. “Love?” he spat. “Do you think I _care_ if you want me or not? Do not mistake this for anything other than it is, Draco. You are nothing but a carrier for any children I want. Do not insult me,” he scoffed, “ _love_. As if I could ever love a pathetic thing like you.”

Draco finally turned his head, facing Harry.

Their faces were mere centimeters apart. He glared up at him, pure hatred burning in his chest for the man looming over him.

“Good,” he hissed, “because I would _never_ willingly love a beast like you. You’re ugly on the inside and I would _never_ give myself to someone like you. You can hurt me, berate me, and rape me as many times as you want. It won’t change my perception of you.”

A muscle jumped in Harry’s jaw, his eyes hardening.   
  
“Oh? Your mind might not want me, but your body does, little one. Let me show you how much control you really have.”

Harry lowered his dark head and let his mouth hover over one of Draco’s pebbled nipples. His warm breath gusted over it, making him mewl softly.

Draco pulled against his restraints, pressing his chest upwards.

Harry let his lips brush against Draco’s sensitive nipple, eliciting a sharp whine from Draco.

“They look so prettily swollen. Do you wish me to suck on them to ease your pain?”

“N-n-no!” Draco attempted to scoot away, but Harry stopped him by grabbing his thigh and dragging him back.

“Hush now,” he chided, lowering his head once more and letting the coarse stubble on his chin abrade his nipple.

Draco gasped, arching up. “ _Stop it, stop it_ ,” he begged.

Harry ignored him, sucking one of Draco’s swollen nipples into his hot mouth.

Draco cried out, throwing his head back against the mattress. He undulated his hips as Harry softly sucked, his tongue sinuously lashing against the hardened nub. The suction of Harry’s mouth seemed to go straight to Draco’s prick, making it _throb_ with each strong pull of Harry’s mouth.

Slick oozed from his hole, a continuous flow between his parted thighs.

Harry pinched Draco’s other nipple between his index and middle finger, giving it harsh tug.

“I-I’m going to—”

Draco wasn’t even able to finish his sentence, cum suddenly spurting from his slit and splattering against his stomach and chest. Some of it hit Harry’s chin, making him smile against Draco’s nipple.

He pulled back, wiping up Draco’s cum from his face with one finger. “So sensitive. It makes me wonder how you’ll react when my cock is finally inside of you.”

Draco lay panting on the bed, covered in sweat, slick, and cum. He dazedly watched as Harry stuck his cum-covered finger in his mouth and sucked. Harry’s eyes closed for a moment, making Draco flush.

“You taste wonderful, little one. Like a desperate whore.”

Draco’s vision was beginning to go fuzzy around the edges, his heat impairing all of his senses.

He pulled up his feet, spreading his thighs wide so that his Alpha could see how wet and ready he was. Even though his instincts were controlling most of his actions now, his face suffused with heat under Harry’s intense gaze.

Harry clicked his tongue. “Do you want me to see you, Draco? Do you want us to touch, skin to skin?”

Draco shook his head, turning away, but keeping his legs spread.

His mind was a constant loop of _want, need, Alpha, mate_ , crave.

Draco heard the distinct sound of Harry undressing.

He whimpered, pressing his cheek to the mattress, not wanting the cruel man anywhere near him while unclothed because he knew what would inevitably follow.

The bed dipped under Harry’s weight and Draco flinched when he settled over top of him. He reluctantly turned to look at up him.

Harry hovered just above him, gazing down at him with hooded eyes. “If I untie you, will you play nice?”

“Fuck you!” Draco pursed his lips to spit, but Harry grabbed his cheeks between his strong fingers, squeezing.

“If you _ever_ spit at me again,” he hissed, “I will force open that pretty mouth and shove my cock in. I’ll make you choke on it and when I come, I’ll force you to swallow _all_ of it. Once you take it all, I’ll spit right in that defiant mouth to accompany my seed on the way down.”

Draco snapped his mouth shut, glowering up at him.

Harry smirked. “That’s better. Now, let’s loosen you up a bit.”

Harry lowered his hand, pressing two fingers against Draco’s seeping hole. He let out a low whine, clenching and unclenching against Harry’s calloused fingertips. The tips of his fingers breached him, his slickened hole seeming to suck the digits in.

“So pink and eager,” Harry cooed, shallowly pumping the tips of his fingers in and out at an agonizingly slow pace that had Draco softly mewling. “So wet for me.”

“N-not for you!” Draco shouted, pressing down in an attempt to impale himself even further on Harry’s fingers. “I-It’s just my heat, it’s always like this.”

Harry shoved a third finger into Draco’s hole, quickening the pace. His hole squelched noisily around his fingers, brushing against _that_ spot deep inside of him. “Are you sure? Look how loose you’re becoming, so stretched and hot around me.”

“ _Ah_!” Draco cried out, curling his toes.

Harry eyes darkened, pulling his fingers from his hole, a thin trail of slick still connecting them. He grabbed one of Draco’s thighs, spreading him almost painfully wide.

Draco cast a surreptitious glance down, his eyes following the thin line of sparse dark hair that traveled from Harry’s navel and down, to his erection.

Harry shifted under his gaze, his impossibly large cock bobbing between his legs. Draco licked his lips, eyeing the impressive length. It was thickly veined, the head reddened and sheening with pre-cum.

Draco keened softly, his brow damp with sweat. He wanted that hard length _in_ him, rutting him deep and soothing the burning hurt wouldn’t abate without his Alpha’s cock to fuck it out of him.

“Want it that badly, do you? I’ll give you what you crave, little one.” Harry used one hand to line up his cock with Draco’s hole, roughly yanking his hips lower with the other.

Draco pulled back; his thoughts momentarily cohesive when Harry’s words penetrated his haze of lust. 

This was it. He was going to rape him. He was going to impregnate him— _against his will_.

He trembled under his Alpha’s unnerving gaze, feeling utterly powerless and small beneath him. His lust-induced haze cleared just enough to allow him to form words.

“Wait!” Draco cried out. “C-can you please t-take me from behind?”

Harry arched a brow, halting his movement. “Why does it matter?”

Draco bit his lower lip between his teeth, averting his eyes before flicking them back to look up at Harry from under his lashes. “Because I-I don’t want us to l-look at each other.”

Harry clenched his jaw, his fingers digging into the skin of his hip.

Draco let out a soft cry, submissively baring his throat. With the tip of Harry’s cock pressing against his entrance, his Omega side took over once again.

Slick was pouring from his hole, coating them both in the hot, wet fluid. A flush of heat spread from his chest and down, making the flames within him ignite with even more vehemence than before.

His Alpha was angry with him. If he was angry, he wouldn’t fuck him.

“ _Alpha, Alpha, Alpha_ ,” he sobbed brokenly, rocking his hips to coax him closer.

Harry let out a low groan and shoved his nose against Draco’s marked gland, licking and sucking at it. “Beg me for it, Omega, beg me,” he murmured hoarsely against his skin.

Draco stared dazedly up at the ceiling as Harry mouthed at his neck. The plea was on the tip of his tongue, but he was able to tamp it down.

He would _not_ beg to be raped. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want _Harry_.

Underneath all of the pheromones, slick, and instincts, this wasn’t what Draco wanted.

Harry was trying to force him to be his mate, force him to carry his child. It was all so fucked, and Draco let out strangled sob, his eyes filling with unshed tears.

Harry pulled back, casting him a patient look. “Cease your crying, pet. I won’t have it, not tonight.”

“I can’t help it! I don’t want you; I don’t _want_ this. Please just let me go, Harry. Please just let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone,” he sucked in a shuddering breath, “I don’t want this, please.”

 _Don’t use my own body against me_ , he sobbed internally.

Harry went rigid above him. “Fine,” he said coolly, “I have another idea, pet.”

Draco almost cried with relief when Harry pulled away from him, standing up from the bed.

Harry left the room but returned only moments later, his mask of indifference firmly in place. He walked over and untied one of Draco’s wrists and stepped back, tossing something onto the bed in front him.

“If you really don’t want me, use this instead.”

Draco sat up, clutching his now free hand against his chest protectively. “W-what?”

A large silicone dildo sat on the bed next to him. It was impossibly big, maybe even bigger than Harry’s. 

And it was ribbed.

Draco cast Harry a look of disbelief. “You’re mad! I-I can’t fit that inside of me!”

Harry stepped close to him, making Draco whine and turn his head, baring his throat.

He grabbed Draco’s throat above his collar, pressing down. “I didn’t _ask_ , pet. Now fuck yourself with it.”

Using only his grip on his neck, Harry tossed Draco backwards on the bed and went to sit in the armchair across from the bed. He was still naked, his cock hard and leaking between his legs. 

Draco swallowed thickly, his inner Omega wailing with want at the sight of his Alpha’s cock, hard and ready for him.   
  
Harry snapped his fingers and pointed to the dildo. “Stop staring. This is what you wanted, remember? Show me how you used to use one when you were in heat. I’m curious now, Draco.”

Draco warily eyed the dildo before picking it up with his newly freed hand. His fingers couldn’t even fully wrap around it, the girth too large for his small hand.

Harry only stared at him with those cold eyes, his face wiped of all emotion. 

Draco laid down, spreading his trembling thighs. Slick was still leaking from his hole, the sheets beneath it covered in it. He looked up at Harry for guidance, unsure what exactly he was trying to prove by making him do this.

”What is it, pet? Would you prefer it were me? You need only ask and I’ll give it it you.” Harry fisted his cock at the root, slowly sliding his hand up and then back down.

Draco narrowed his eyes, his chest rising and falling with harsh pants.

Harry meant to _punish_ him by doing this.

He knew that as an Omega in heat, nothing would be able to satisfy him except his Alpha’s cock sliding against his inner channel, those veins and ridges catching against every euphoric spot inside of him that incessantly burned with hot _need_.

”I’m waiting, Draco. Don’t make me help you, because I won’t be gentle.”

Draco set down the dildo and lowered his shaky fingers to his hole, intending to prepare himself.

”Ah, ah,” Harry said, shaking his head. “No fingers, pet. It’s either me or the _toy_. You pick, but nothing else.”

Harry’s deliberate cruelty made his heart clench, hatred seething deep within him for the terrible man.

Draco gritted his teeth and picked up the toy again, pressing the head of the dildo against his hole. 

His body recoiled with _wrongness,_ knowing the difference between its Alpha and a toy.

Ignoring all of his instincts, he pressed the dildo further, letting the bulbous head stretch past the tight ring of muscles.

Draco moaned softly, the painful stretch and artificial feel of the dildo unpleasant against his sensitive hole. Each ribbed edge caught against his sensitive walls as it sunk deeper, splitting him open.

”Such a _good_ boy,” Harry praised condescendingly.

Draco cracked open his eyes to glare at him, but was met with a torturous sight.

Harry was masturbating, his long, tanned fingers sliding up and down that thick shaft with unhurried ease. His green eyes were riveted between Draco’s legs where the dildo was halfway impaling him now.

He looked furious.

Draco flinched, accidentally pushing the dildo even further inside of him.

”I-It hurts,” he whined softly, his hole feeling painfully stretched beyond what he was capable. Even though his slick was easing the penetration, he wanted his _Alpha_ , not this hard, unyielding toy.

”But this is what you wanted, Draco,” Harry taunted, stroking his cock, “you’d rather have anyone else inside of you, anyone except _me.”_

Draco felt two tears slide down the sides of his face, vacillating between begging for Harry to stop or just doing what he wanted.

”Shove it in _all_ the way, stuff that slutty hole,” Harry snapped, widening his legs to let Draco better see his heavy erection.

Keeping his eyes on Harry’s cock, he complied, forcefully ramming the dildo up into his hole. 

Draco released a strangled whimper, feeling as if his insides were being rent apart by the dildo.

”Now fuck yourself with it,” Harry rasped, his eyes glinting with excitement.

Draco began clumsily pumping the dildo in and out of his hole, matching the pace of Harry’s hand pumping his own cock. 

Unable to help himself, he began to fantasize that the dildo was Harry, his large cock splitting him open as he snapped his hips in and out. The fantasy seemed to lessen his discomfort, slick gushing out of his hole and covering his trembling fingers and the dildo.

He felt unbearably hot, unable to tear his his eyes away from Harry wanking himself, a cruel smile on his full lips. 

The dildo rubbed against that rapturous spot inside of him, making him let out a high-pitched moan, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Finally, he blessedly receded, allowing the Omega part of him take over, his consciousness fading.

**XXX**

When Harry saw the boy’s eyes roll back into his head, he wasted no more time.

He lurched from the chair and was on top of the boy, yanking the offensive dildo from Draco’s limp fingers. He threw it to the side with a disgusted snarl, returning his hands to the boy’s pale thighs, shoving them open.

He lowered his head and shoved his tongue into Draco’s wet hole, licking and sucking at his stretched opening. The Alpha in him bayed with discontent, trying to heal any hurt that the dildo had caused to his Omega’s delicate, furled opening.

He burrowed his tongue inside of that tight heat, curling and twisting it from side to side as far as he could reach. Excess slick poured from his hole and Harry eagerly lapped it up like a man possessed.

His little Omega _needed_ him, needed his healing saliva. When he was satisfied with that, he sat back on his haunches and untied Draco’s other wrist from the bed frame, gathering the writhing boy into his arms.

Draco was emitting broken whines and keening moans that traveled straight to Harry’s throbbing cock. 

He raised one of Draco’s slender wrists to his mouth, sliding his tongue over the now bleeding, circular abrasion. He did the same to his other wrist, laying licks and fucking apologetic _kisses_ to it.

_I’m sorry._

Harry winced, disgust and shock washing over him at the apology that echoed throughout his mind. He pushed aside his inexplicable thoughts, turning his attention back to his needy Omega.

Draco’s eyes were slitted, glazed with desire as he watched. He was undulating against Harry, his cute little Omega prick rubbing against his abdomen, covering it with pre-cum.

” _Alpha_ ,” he said softly, tears now continuously falling from his eyes.

”I won’t torture us any longer, pet,” he promised, rearranging the boy so that he was on his hands and knees before him.

Without any further preamble, Harry rammed his cock into Draco’s slick hole, a deep groan escaping him when the tight, wet channel eagerly sucked him in.

Draco’s breath hitched and he went wild. He raised his hips and tried to slam back against Harry, tearing at the sheets with his fingernails.

“ _Easy_ , little one.”

He knew that Draco was a virgin and felt possessive satisfaction settle over him in thick, proprietary waves. 

_His_ Omega, his _Draco_.

Harry grabbed Draco’s pale hips with both hands and began pistoning his cock in and out of Draco, watching as his angry, reddened cock slid in and out of that tiny, pink hole. 

Harry lowered his upper half until his chest was pressed against Draco’s back, their sweat slicked skin sealing them together.

He wrapped one arm around Draco’s waist, tightening his hold and digging his heels into the bed. He began snapping his hips against the boy, fucking into his hole with unrestrained tenacity, his harsh thrusts making the boy fall forward before Harry would drag him back up for more.

Draco was babbling incoherently beneath him, a string of unintelligible nonsense that had Harry licking at his nape, his teeth scraping the boy’s _marked_ scent gland.

” _Alpha, more, h-harder, please._ ”

Harry gave one brutal thrust, angling his hips to ram against the boy’s prostate. Draco keened with delight and came, spraying hot jets of cum against the sheets beneath him.

Their combined pheromones were drenching the air around them, making Harry feel as if he were _high_.

He could feel his knot forming at the base of his cock, pressing painfully against his tight skin.

”Take my knot, sweetheart, take it _deep_ for your Alpha,” he growled against Draco’s ear.

Draco eagerly arched his back, pressing back against Harry.

Harry rammed his cock deep, Draco’s slick allowing his knot to effortlessly pop past the tight ring of muscles. Harry sank his teeth into Draco’s gland, groaning at how good it felt. When he was seated all the way in, he came, shooting his cum deep inside of the boy, filling him up— _breeding him_.

”Feels s-so good,” Draco moaned softly, out of his mind with his heat and Harry’s cum filling his arse and womb.

Harry smirked against his neck, giving small licks to heal the teeth marks he’d left on his throat.

When he had finally emptied himself inside of his Omega, he gingerly pulled the boy up, his cock still inside of him. He laid them both on their sides, grinning when the boy unconsciously scooted closer, turning his head to nuzzle his nose against Harry’s scent gland on his neck, softly purring.

”So beautiful, so lovely,” Harry rasped, pushing back some of Draco’s long, soft hair. 

Draco sighed contentedly, his eyes slipping shut.

Harry allowed himself to study the boy, his knot still connecting them.

He knew that when he would awake, he’d want to be rutted again. An Omega’s heat usually lasted three to five days and Harry was more than happy to give Draco what he would naturally crave. Perhaps he would knot him more than once, until the boy would be _filled_ with his seed, ensuring pregnancy.

Harry let his knuckles brush against the boy’s flat stomach, imagining it round with his babe.

He smiled and pulled the boy closer, nuzzling into his hair, inhaling.

He would enjoy this unimpeded moment, for when the boy came back to his senses, he would hate Harry again.

Maybe that was for the best. After all, that was what they had most in common.

Hatred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, no. I’ve made Harry even more of a _bastard_ in your eyes, haven’t I? 😏 
> 
> Naughty me.
> 
> I feel so sorry for Draco. All alone with no one but his asshole Alpha to lean on and seek comfort in.
> 
> How much worse could it get...😏😌
> 
> (I’m sorry, guys, but it needed to happen to further the story. Now I’m putting away my phone cause ya’ll scare me with how much you hate Harry LMAO.)


	6. Curious Burden

Draco opened his eyes, the familiar feeling of anguish and hopelessness slowly overtaking him.

It didn’t happen instantaneously.

At first, when he would awaken, he would remember where he was.

When he would take in the familiar dark décor and soft black sheets beneath him, dread would skitter up his spine, quick and sinister.

Once he would realize that he was still being held captive, the weight of the collar around his neck would suddenly seem unbearable. It rested against his skin, making his flesh feel hot and itchy.

Then, slowly, further awareness would trickle in. The crushing feeling of his hopeless situation and the anguish he carried in his heart for his mother and her own bleak situation.

He would remember that he was a kept _thing_ , and his owner was a man with no empathy or remorse.

It had been three weeks since his heat, and he hadn’t seen Harry since.

When Draco had awoken alone on the last day of his heat, Harry had already disappeared. The last burning vestiges of his heat had slowly dissipated as the day had gone on, and Draco was horrified to realize he couldn’t remember any of it.

Every inch of his skin had been covered in Harry’s cum and pheromones. It was almost like Harry had left him a humiliating message:

 _See, pet? I_ own _you, in every sense of the word._

He no longer attempted to use his magic. The collar proved to be a strong magical deterrent, too advanced for him to try to figure out on his own.

Draco sat up in bed, staring at the wall across from him for several moments.

His daily routine was becoming maddening.

The house-elf, Kreacher, brought him his meals each day and escorted him to the bathroom. He was adamant that Draco eat and bathe regularly. Kreacher had even brought him new clothes. _Expensive_ clothes all in his exact size. He had even been given hair ties for his long hair. After he had tied his hair up in a haphazard half-knot, he’d stared at his reflection in the mirror of the bathroom.

His skin looked slightly ashen, but other than that, he looked unchanged. The only noticeable difference to his appearance was the mating bite on his neck. Harry’s teeth marks on his throat had healed over, silvered indentions against his pale skin.

Even though inside he was emotional wreck, everything on the surface remained pretty much the same.

He wondered if his new clothes were a reward for being Harry’s _whore_.

Draco had turned away from the mirror, unable to look at his reflection anymore.

He knew that Harry had probably picked the clothes out. Even though he knew they had come from _Harry_ , he had decided to wear them. He felt entirely too vulnerable being naked. He even slept in his new clothes, fearing that Harry would come back to his bed at night while he was unaware.

He wanted to be in control of _something_ and even though it seemed insignificant, his clothing choice made that one allowance.

Harry did come back one night, however.

Draco had acted like he was sleeping. Harry had stood at the foot of the bed, silently watching him. He had felt Harry’s eyes boring into him from above, his skin prickling with awareness.

After about ten minutes, he’d left.

After he had left, Draco had begun crying.

He was horrified to realize that he had _wanted_ Harry to stay. When you were left with nothing but silence and your own thoughts, you began to crave any kind of human interaction. Even if that human interaction was with someone you loathed.

It wasn’t just that, though.

His body _yearned_ for Harry. Harry had left his brand upon him, an indelible mark on his neck that he couldn’t seem to ignore. Harry was now his _Alpha_. He had claimed him as his own. For all Draco knew, he was currently growing their pup inside of him.

He felt cornered.

He felt trapped.

There was nowhere to run, no one to call out to.

So, he simply existed. He ate his meals, slept, and paced his room.

After two weeks of being holed up inside the room where he’d been raped, Kreacher had informed him that Harry was allowing him to roam the house on his own.

At first, Draco had been wary.

Surely Harry was trying to trick him.

Maybe he thought he would try to escape? Maybe he _wanted_ him to try to escape. Maybe he wanted Draco to mess up, so he could punish him.

Draco shuddered at that thought.

After much trepidation, he had first tested his metaphorical leash by exploring the floor his bedroom was on.

Some of the doors on his floor were locked, but some weren’t. One bedroom had coverings over all of the furniture, even on the lone portrait in the room. He uncovered some of the furniture, quickly realizing that the room must have belonged to a child or young adult, evidenced by some the more juvenile toys and magical baubles hidden within the dresser drawers.

Draco had finally drawn up the courage one evening to finally remove the covering over the portrait. It hung above the fireplace in the room, layers of dust coating it. He had wondered why Kreacher didn’t clean up in the room. Every other room on that floor seemed spotless.

Upon pulling off the thick covering, he had been met with a dark, haunted gaze.

It had been of a young man.

He had wavy dark hair and eyes, much the same as the other witches and wizards depicted in the portraits in the house. The young man in the portrait did not speak to him, content to just stare down at him with solemn eyes, his lips set in a grim line.

Draco had found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the pallid young man, even sitting on the covered bed and just staring at the portrait some nights.

Kreacher had finally found him one evening and had ushered him out.

Draco had been curious enough to press Kreacher about the portrait.

 _“Who is that, in the portrait, Kreacher?”_

_Kreacher had sniffed, not facing him. “Master Black. Sirius Black, the owner of Grimmauld Place before Master Potter took ownership.”_

_Draco had dithered outside of the bedroom, wanting at least_ some _insight to the terrible man who kept him captive. “He was related to Harry then?”_

_Kreacher had cast him a withering look. “Master Potter doesn’t want me talking of these things, especially with you. It’s time to eat, off we go.”_

Draco hadn’t pressed further.

The third week of Harry’s absence, Draco had begun exploring the lower levels of the house.

All of the exits of the house were magically warded, their invisible barriers impenetrable to Draco, especially with his collar preventing him from using his magic.

When Draco had found Harry’s office, he had been surprised it hadn’t been locked to him. It looked as if the room had once been bedroom but had been converted. Floor to ceiling black mahogany bookshelves lined all of the walls, some of the books Draco even recognized.

Draco’s mother had always made sure that his education on the Wizarding World had been thorough. Even though he hadn’t attended a Wizarding school, his mother had taught him everything he needed to know.

 _Dark Arts, Potions, Transfiguration, Alchemy, Divination, Historical magical people, Ancient Runes_ , _Arithmancy, Herbology_.

All of these textbooks were familiar to him.

He was surprised to find copies of the some of the books Harry himself had written on the shelves.

Draco still couldn’t believe that Harry was a well-known author in the Wizarding World. One evening, he had plucked one of Harry’s novels from the bookshelf and opened it. He had immediately leafed to the back of the book, searching for an author’s bio. Much to his chagrin, there had been none. 

_Well_ , Draco thought drily, _what would Harry be described as anyway? A sociopathic rapist with no regard for human life with a penchant for torture. Oh, he also likes long walks on the beach and smoking._

Draco had let out a derisive snort and had shoved the book back on the shelf, disgusted with himself for even being curious.

The next evening, however, he found himself back Harry’s office.

The office was covered in Harry’s scent, and Draco found himself drawn to it.

Surrounded by his Alpha’s scent, he would sit on the black leather chesterfield sofa and read through one of Harry’s novels. The antique grandfather clock in the corner of the office was charmed, the face changing from a bright morning sky to starlit night depending on the time of day. The steady tick of the pendulum within marked the passage of time while he lounged in the office, lulling him to sleep one evening as he read.

“ _Draco_.”

A featherlight caress across his forehead made him softly moan, shifting on the sofa to a more comfortable position.

Another soft caress against his stomach made him startle awake.

Harry was standing beside the sofa, staring down at him with that emotionless mask firmly in place.

Harry picked up the book from the floor that had fallen from his hand while he’d slept. “Curious about me? You need only ask.”

Draco sat up, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m not curious about you. Not in the slightest,” he said indignantly.

Harry smirked and slid the book back into its proper place on the shelf.

“It’s only natural to be curious about your Alpha, Draco.”

He walked to his large, ornate desk in the middle of the office and sat in the black leather chair behind it, staring at Draco from across the room.

“Not my Alpha by _choice_ ,” Draco muttered.

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Come here. _Now_.”

Draco reluctantly stood and walked over to Harry, stopping just in front of his legs. “What?” he asked sullenly.

Harry reached forward and grabbed his wrist, yanking him down. Draco fell unceremoniously atop his lap, his breath hitching when Harry slid his hand up the back of his navy jumper.

“Do you like your new clothes?” he asked in a gravelly voice, his fingers trailing up Draco’s spine.

Draco flushed, trying to squirm away. “I-I guess. It’s better than being naked,” he murmured.

“As I recall, you like being naked. In fact, I remember how eager you were for us both to be naked together. Do _you_ remember, Draco?” Harry’s long fingers curled around his ribs, dangerously close to one of his nipples.

“S-stop it, get your hand out. I don’t want it,” Draco stammered, trying to pull away.

“Oh? Perhaps you want another part of me instead. I remember that you were quite fond of a certain appendage of mine, for days actually.”

Draco’s face suffused with heat, mortified when his prick began hardening beneath his trousers.

Harry leaned forward, brushing his parted lips against his ear. “You would beg for it, Draco. I took you for hours sometimes, until we were both covered in your slick and my cum. You weren’t satisfied unless your hole was dripping, filled to the brim with _me_.”

Draco shook his head. “I-I was in heat. I wasn’t myself,” he whispered, tears pricking his eyes.

Harry chuckled, low and throaty. “You can lie to yourself all you want, pet. It won’t change the fact that you spread your legs for me for days, only sated when I was sheathed to the hilt in that stretched, wet little opening of yours.”

Draco closed his eyes, tears sliding from his eyes. “Please,” he whispered weakly, “stop.”

Harry pulled back, going silent for a beat.

“Don’t act so scandalized,” he hissed, “you’ll be overjoyed to hear that I honored your pathetic little request. I never fucked you from the front, so dry your tears.”

Draco opened his eyes and turned to glare at him. “Do you think that’s a _concession_ on your part? Should I fall to my knees and thank you for _raping_ me in the way I requested?” he scoffed, “you’re unbelievable.”

A muscle jumped in Harry’s jaw. “You forget yourself, Draco. I _own_ you. Anything I want to do to your body is within my right as your Alpha. There will be no one else for you, only me.”

“So, you expect me to just be okay with all of this? I don’t even know why you’re being so cruel to me anyway! I’ve never done anything to anyone, and you’re subjecting me to all of this…”

Harry watched him, one side of his lips quirking up. “Subjecting you to what, Draco?”

Draco shook his head and averted his gaze. “I’ve never even been kissed…” he whispered hoarsely, fighting back even more tears.

Harry was silent for several moments, the steady tick of the grandfather clock and Draco’s dry sniffling the only sound to be heard in the otherwise quiet room.

“Kiss me, then.”

Draco shot him a baleful look, his eyes brimming with tears. “Don’t.”

Harry, the bastard, smiled smugly. “What? You said you’ve never been kissed. Shouldn’t your Alpha rectify that?”

“I don’t want to kiss you! You’re a horrible person and I want to save…” Draco trailed off, not meaning to share that much.

Harry’s eyes hardened. “Save your first kiss for whom, Draco? I’ve already told you there will be no one else. Stop thinking someone is going to swoop in and save you. I’m all you have, all you _need_. I will be the father of any children you carry, so dispose of any nonsensical dreams you harbor in your heart.”

“That doesn’t make me hate you any less,” Draco said icily, still not looking at him.

Harry reached up with one hand and pinched Draco’s chin between his fingers, turning his head to face him. “Kiss me. _Now_.”

Draco pursed his lips, glaring at him.

Couldn’t he keep this _one_ little piece of himself?

Harry wanted to take everything, even if it meant there would be _nothing_ left of the boy Draco had been before being taken by the terrible man.

“I’m waiting, pet.”

Draco held his breath and slowly lowered his head towards Harry’s, making sure his lips were sealed shut.

Harry waited until Draco was inches away from his face before grabbing his head in both of his large hands and yanking his mouth down against his own in a punishing kiss.

Draco let out a choked whimper, his lips parting in surprise. Harry shoved his tongue into Draco’s mouth, swiping it against his own. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s abdomen, pulling him closer. Draco didn’t know where to put his hands, so he rested them against Harry’s broad chest.

Harry deepened the kiss, tilting his head slightly for better access. Draco didn’t know what to do, so he hesitantly brushed his tongue against Harry’s. The taste of Harry’s saliva against his tongue made him softly moan, sliding his hands up and twining them around Harry’s neck, his eyes sliding shut in surrender.

Harry’s hands traveled down to Draco’s hips, rucking up his jumper and digging his thumbs into his hip bones. Draco eagerly pressed his chest to his, slick starting to leak from his hole due to his Alpha’s attention.

Harry pulled back, sliding his mouth lower to lick and suck at Draco’s marked gland. Draco’s breath hitched when he felt Harry’s erection prodding between his arse, rubbing against his covered hole. He pressed down on the rigid length, earning a low growl from Harry.

"Did you miss this?" Harry murmured against his throat, lightly kissing the sensitive skin above his collar.

Draco somehow instinctively knew what Harry was actually asking, the fucked up bond that had been forced upon him making the sinuous words whisper across his mind.

 _Did you miss_ me?

Instincts and arousal controlling him, Draco tugged Harry’s head back up to take his mouth in a slow, languid kiss. Harry didn’t reciprocate, leaving Draco to clumsily lick and suck at his mouth, his inexperience painfully apparent.

Finally, Harry took over, _dominating_ Draco’s mouth with his own. Their combined pheromones saturated the air around them, making Draco begin to dazedly rock his hips against Harry’s erection, seeking friction.

Harry was the first one to slowly pull back, smiling as his eyes darkened. “Another one of your firsts that belongs to me,” he purred, quickly leaning forward to swipe his tongue against Draco’s trembling lower lip before pulling away again, “and what an impassioned first it was. Where is that hate you always speak of, Draco?”

Even though Draco’s prick was stiff beneath his trousers, his heart felt as if it had been lanced by Harry’s mocking words.

He wanted Harry to feel hurt like him. He wanted to wipe that smug smile off his perfect lips. He wanted to break down crying.

He wanted to—

“Who is the young man in the portrait upstairs? The one in the child’s bedroom.”

It was the first thing Draco could think of in the moment, latching on to any familial relation that Harry might have had with the man.

Harry arched a brow. “What?”

“The young man with the dark hair and eyes. Upstairs, in the child’s bedroom. There was dust covering everything. His portrait was covered, too.”

Harry studied him for a moment, his gaze contemplative. “He was my godfather, Sirius Black.”

Draco shifted on his lap, Harry’s erection steadily waning beneath him. “And you loved him?”

Harry let out a dry bark of laughter, giving him a quizzical look. “What a direct question. This isn’t like you. What game are you playing at?”

Draco shrugged, looking up at Harry from under his lashes. “It looks like no one ever goes in that room. Something must have happened to make you never want to look upon his portrait. Was he someone important to you?”

 _Like my mother is important to me_ , his mind whispered.

Harry’s face became shuttered of all emotion, his green eyes frosting over. “ _Enough_.”

He stood up, yanking Draco up with him by his wrist.

“Do not ask me such questions and do not ever go back in the room without my permission _again_.”

Harry dragged a stumbling Draco back over to the sofa and gently flung him onto it.

“The Healer from St Mungo’s is stopping by next week. He’ll be checking on your health and will determine if you are pregnant or not. In the meantime, sit tight and be a _good boy_.”

Draco sat up, his desire quickly evaporating under Harry’s callous treatment. “Good. Maybe he’ll catch on to what an abusive prick you are,” he murmured.

Harry slowly knelt, putting himself at eye-level with Draco on the sofa. He smiled and brushed his knuckles against Draco’s cheek in a fleeting caress.

Draco found himself unwittingly leaning into the touch, starved for any scrap of affection from his Alpha.

“I trust you’ll know how to behave when he does come to visit, pet. Do not forget about your pathetic mother, rotting away in Azkaban. If that’s not enough to convince you of good behavior, think about the innocent life that you may be carrying inside of you at this very moment. Without your Alpha around, your unborn child will suffer. _Our_ unborn child. Just remember that, Draco.”

Draco hands shook, hot tears finally escaping his eyes and sliding down his cheeks. “You’re a monster,” he whispered, protectively hugging his own stomach.

Harry stood, staring down at him with hooded eyes. “Maybe, Draco, but I’m also your Alpha, your _mate_. Ruminate on that for the next seven days and get some sleep, pet.”

Without another word, Harry pivoted on his heel and left the office, leaving a quietly sobbing Draco alone on the sofa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to address a common comment that I’ve been seeing on this fic: 
> 
> Harry should realize that what he’s doing to Draco makes him no better than Lucius and Narcissa.
> 
> So, you’re absolutely correct. In a perfect world, people would realize their errors as soon as they make them. I wish the world worked that way, I really do. There would be a lot less tarnished relationships, broken hearts, and misunderstandings. Unfortunately, I believe that one of humanity’s biggest downfalls is our inherent ability to misconstrue. We do it everyday. We misconstrue interactions, words, and our own emotions.
> 
> In this fic, I wanted to create a Harry Potter that was angry about his grief. Sometimes grief twists us into someone unrecognizable, someone who feels resentment for what’s been stolen away from them. The Harry I’ve written in this fic wants vengeance and plans to exact it when a perfect opportunity presents itself in the form of an innocent Draco Malfoy.
> 
> There will be character development, my dear readers, but not in one snap of my fingers. Harry in this fic is blinded by hatred. Hatred is a powerful and complex emotion. Hatred is not black and white, it effects everyone differently. 
> 
> Please trust me! I know you want me to just throw Harry in a wood chipper, but there would be no story if I did that. 😭
> 
> Thank you for reading, I love reading all of your comments! Sorry if there are editing mistakes, I wrote this after two glasses of wine. 🥴 🖤🖤🖤


	7. Guilty Burden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI All knowledge I have about pregnancy or pregnancy complications comes from the experience of my own pregnancy. I’m in no way a medical professional or know what the fuck I’m talking about. 🥰
> 
> Some of ya'll about to hate me for this chapter, I can sense it. 👁👄👁 LMAO

Draco pulled on the loosest jumper he had available from the pile of clothes Harry had bought for him. It was dark green, a sharp contrast to his pale complexion. Underneath the jumper, he wore a black button-down. His blond hair had grown longer, some pale strands having escaped from his half-knot and hanging in front of his eyes.

He examined himself even closer in the bathroom mirror, his eyes lingering on the collar encircling his neck.

With shaky fingers, he buttoned up the collar of his shirt underneath his jumper, effectively hiding his collar from view.

Harry had instructed him to conceal the collar and not to mention it to the Healer who was visiting today.

 _“If you be my_ good boy _today, I’ll reward you, Draco.”_

Draco flushed, his eyes appearing glassy as he gazed at his reflection.

He hoped that Harry’s seed hadn’t took. He hoped that his seed _never_ took.   
  
If Draco turned out to actually be pregnant...

Sighing, he lifted up the hem of his jumper, examining his pale, flat stomach. He placed his free hand on his belly, rubbing it softly.

“If you’re in there, I’m sorry, baby. Your father is a horrible man and I’m...”

_A coward._

He gritted his teeth, yanking down his jumper.

Draco didn’t know what he would do if he was told that he was pregnant. 

He supposed a normal, healthy relationship between an Alpha and Omega as a couple would react entirely different to the news.

If Harry had been a normal, loving Alpha...

Draco imagined Harry, dropping to his knees before him, nuzzling and kissing his stomach. 

_“I’m so happy, Draco._ Our _baby...”_

Draco closed his eyes, feeling like a prat for imagining such a sentimental thing.

Questions plagued him about what would happen to his body if he actually became pregnant. His mother had never liked talking about his father or her pregnancy with him. He knew it had been painful for her to remember those things, so he had never pressed.

He wished he could turn back time. He would tell her so many things he’d left unsaid, ask her the questions he would never be able to now.

But all he had was the here and now.

If he was going to survive Harry, he needed to be smart about things going forward. 

Harry trumped him in age and experience, but Draco was his chosen mate. If he wanted this _relationship_ —or whatever fucked up thing it was—to work, Harry would have to treat him with more care. He did know that Omega pregnancies were extremely fragile and their Alpha would need to exercise caution and restraint during their pup’s gestation in the womb.

Draco had asked Kreacher to bring him a book on magical Omega pregnancies and what to expect. He knew the house-elf had requested permission from Harry first. One evening, the book had appeared on the nightstand next to his bed, so he guessed Harry was okay with him learning about his own body.

It stung his pride that he had to get _approval_ to read a sodding book about his own anatomy, but he couldn’t let it get to him too much.

He had stayed up most of the night reading it, dread curling in his stomach the more he read.

An Alpha was supposed to be in constant contact with his Omega during pregnancy. Praise and physical touch were encouraged.

When Draco had read about how sexual contact was encouraged with their Alpha during an Omega’s pregnancy, his ears had burned with embarrassment.

Not just fucking, but also _tender_ copulation. The sharing of one’s own inherent magic with their mate to strengthen the vulnerable fetus and promote growth in the early stages.

Draco would have to let Harry... _make love_ to him, too.

He tasted bile in the back of his throat, remembering when Harry had raped him. That hadn’t been _love_. That had been Harry taking what he wanted.   
  
Even though he was only sixteen, he knew that love was _giving_ , not taking.

Draco didn’t think Harry even knew what the word love meant.

Even though he didn’t want to admit it, he was beginning to remember things from his time during his heat. It was just little flashes, brought on by simply touching something or smelling a certain scent.

Just yesterday, he had been pulling back the sheets on his bed, appreciating how soft the material felt beneath his hand. Like a bolt, a hazy image of Harry slowly thrusting into his limp body from behind while Draco fisted the sheets tightly had played in his mind.

The words that had shamelessly poured from his lips in the memory seemed to blare, forbidden and excruciatingly erotic:

_“Please, Alpha, fuck me, harder,” he moaned, clawing uselessly at the sheets._

_“Such a needy thing, so sweet and all_ mine _,” Harry grated, speeding up his thrusts to a punishing degree._

_Then, there was nothing but the sound of wet slapping skin and Draco’s high-pitched moans filling the room._

Draco had fallen backwards in shock, ending up sprawled on the floor next to the bed. Tears had pricked his eyes, denial warring with desire inside of him.

That couldn’t have been _him_ begging, could it?

And the slow, lazy way Harry had been taking him...

Draco’s face had flamed, blocking the shameful memory from his mind, not wanting to revisit it.

If he was pregnant, he wouldn’t want Harry anywhere near him again. His baby would be solely reliant on him and he couldn’t let that monster anywhere near his precious pup, _especially_ while he was pregnant.

It was silly of him to have such fantasies. Harry would never be a normal Alpha and it was a waste of time for Draco to even be having such thoughts.

Draco placed his hands over his covered stomach, yearning for something that could never be.

What was _wrong_ with him anyway? 

Harry wasn’t that type of person. He would use the baby as leverage. He would use their unborn child to get Draco to do what he wanted. 

He couldn’t let sentimentality, or his forced mating bond muddle his ability to think logically.

Because soon, there might be someone even more vulnerable than himself relying on him to protect them from Harry Potter.

**XXX**

“This shouldn’t take too long, Draco. Please make yourself more comfortable.”

The Healer from St Mungo’s was a young man named Arlen. He had dark hair and warm brown eyes. Draco felt an intense urge to break down and tell the nice man everything Harry had been subjecting him to.

What would happen if he did? Would the Healer report Harry to the Ministry? Would he be able to go back to Collioure?

He missed it so much. The smell of the ocean, the serene view of their quiet town from their open windows, the blessed _silence_ of it all. He wanted to go back, back home where no one forced him to do anything. Back home where he could be himself and there were no collars or ropes.

Nothing but freedom and the ability to make decisions for _himself_ and no one else.

But what about his mother?

He couldn’t just abandon her. There had to be a way to prove her innocence for whatever crime she had been suspected of committing.

And if he was pregnant…his baby wouldn’t be able to survive without Harry’s presence and magic.

He felt blocked at every turn, an impenetrable wall always in the way in the form of Harry Potter.

As if conjured by his thoughts, Harry stepped up next to him, placing a large hand on his shoulder. “Go ahead, Draco. Sit down.”

Draco silently obeyed, sitting on the edge of the sofa next to the Healer.

The Healer was doing his examination in the drawing room of Harry’s home. Harry stood next to the sofa, watching him with an inscrutable gaze.

Draco looked up at him from under his lashes as the Healer was distracted, sorting through his bag of medical supplies.

Draco intentionally raised his hand and scratched his neck, dangerously close to his hidden collar.

Harry’s gaze hardened and he crossed his arms over his broad chest.

 _Don’t get cute_.

Because of their bond, it was becoming unnervingly easier to read Harry’s thoughts based on his facial expressions without them actually speaking to each other.

Draco dropped his hand, glowering up at him.

“Ah, here it is. Sorry for the wait. Can you lift up your jumper for me, Draco?”

Draco timidly lifted his jumper, exposing his stomach for the Healer. He had never before had to share so much of himself with other people— _strangers_. He was a naturally shy person and revealing so much of his body to a strange person made him flush.

As if sensing his discomfort, Harry leaned down to let his lips brush across Draco’s forehead, murmuring a quick reassurance against his heated skin.

In a fucked-up way, it helped. Harry was his mate, and the sudden projection of his familiar pheromones calmed his anxiety, the tension slowly disappearing from his shoulders.

He glanced up at the Healer, who was smiling warmly at them.

He probably thought it was _nice_ of Harry to calm him. He probably thought Harry was a _good_ Alpha who always tried to keep Draco happy.

Oh, if only he knew the truth.

Draco fought the intense urge to slap Harry away and gave him a forced smile.

_I hate you._

The skin next to Harry’s eye twitched, but he remained otherwise calm on the surface. “I’m so excited to see if we’re expecting, sweetheart.”

Draco felt sick all of the sudden. “Me too,” he choked out.

“Well, I won’t keep you two in suspense any longer. Lean back slightly for me, Draco,” Arlen chirped, raising his wand.

Draco hesitantly rested against the back of the sofa, pulling up his jumper a few more inches.

“Because of our ability to use magic, we’re able to see things a little more clearly. Muggles have to wait till at least six weeks gestation to see their little ones, but we’re able to see sooner. We can even determine the sex earlier. Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s see if anything is there first, shall we?”

“Okay,” Draco said softly, tightening his fingers around the material of his jumper to hide their trembling.

Arlen conjured a gel-like substance from the tip of his wand, slowly coating Draco’s stomach in the viscous fluid as he let his wand hover back and forth over his stomach.

“Sorry, Draco. We still have to use the traditional gel to be able to see the embryo better, if it’s there.”

“It’s all right,” Draco whispered, dreading the result.

The Healer mumbled a spell, gently pressing the tip of his wand just above Draco’s bellybutton. After a moment, the pale skin of Draco’s stomach seemed to go transparent, revealing a luminescent image of his uterus.

“Let’s see…” Arlen said softly, moving his wand slowly down Draco’s stomach.

Draco could feel Harry’s gaze on him, like a brand. He glanced up at him.

Harry wasn’t looking at him, but at his stomach. His jaw was clenched tightly beneath his skin. He was watching Arlen’s wand with an intense look in his green eyes. Almost as if…

“There it is,” Arlen said brightly.

Draco's breath hitched.

“It’s small but it’s there. Take a look, Draco.”

Draco reluctantly lowered his gaze to his exposed stomach. Beneath the tip of Arlen’s wand, was a fluttering thing resembling a miniature silvered jellybean.

Harry leaned over him. “That’s the pup?”

Arlen nodded, a furrow appearing between his eyebrows. “Yes, that is your baby, Mr. Potter,” he moved his wand to the side and titled his head slightly. He pulled back his wand and flicked it, golden script appearing in the air beside Draco’s stomach, numbers. He pressed his wand back to Draco’s stomach, his shiny jellybean reappearing. “Strange...”

“W-what is it?” Draco asked breathlessly, his gaze snapping up.

“Just looking at the embryo’s vitals. Nothing to be overly concerned about, but the fetal heart rate is a bit slow.”

“What does that _mean_?” Harry bit out, a menacing edge to his voice.

Arlen glanced up at Harry, giving him an indulgent smile. “I know it sounds concerning, Mr. Potter, but I assure you we’ll continue to monitor it closely.” Arlen pulled his wand away and murmured a cleaning charm, the gel and image of Draco’s jellybean disappearing.

Draco pulled down his jumper, tears pricking his eyes.

Was his jellybean _okay_?

“Have you been stressed recently, Draco?” Arlen asked.

Draco froze, not looking up at Harry, who he could feel was boring a hole into the side of his head. “S-stressed? I guess…a little bit, but just because I was worried about the pregnancy.”

There, that hadn’t been a lie. He _had_ been worried about being pregnant.

Arlen studied him for a moment, his eyes softening. “I suppose that’s to be expected. Have you noticed any peculiar symptoms? Have your nipples been sensitive or darkened in color?”

Draco’s ears burned. “A l-little bit, I guess.”

His chest _had_ been sore recently, but he hadn’t thought it was abnormal.

Arlen nodded, putting his wand back in his bag. “That’s a common early pregnancy symptom. I recommend you spend time with your Alpha for the next few weeks. Physical contact with your Alpha can strengthen your pup in the womb.”

“L-like sexually?” Draco blurted, his cheeks heating.

Arlen chuckled. “Yes, that’s one way of doing it.” Arlen shifted, turning his attention to Harry. “Mr. Potter, you should maintain physical contact with your Omega, especially this early in the pregnancy. Draco needs your support, and your pup needs your magic. It’s absolutely vital to a healthy magical pregnancy.”

Draco looked up and Harry gave a curt nod. “I will.”

Arlen nodded and stood. “Since your condition is currently delicate, Draco, I’ll make visits to your home instead of making you travel to the hospital. I’ll return next week to check up on your pup.”

“T-thank you so much, Arlen,” Draco said softly.

“It’s no problem at all, Draco. Try to get some rest while I’m gone and try not worry. Everything will be fine.”

Draco nodded solemnly and watched as Arlen shook Harry’s hand.

“Thank you,” Harry said gruffly.

Arlen left through the Floo, emerald flames engulfing him entirely before he disappeared.

Draco and Harry didn’t speak for a beat.

Draco quickly got to his feet and tried to leave the room, but was stopped when Harry grabbed his upper arm, pulling him back against his hard chest.

“Are you worried?” he asked, pressing his lips to Draco’s warm ear.

“G-get off me!” Draco shouted, struggling against his hold and huffing in frustration. “Arlen is gone, so we can stop _pretending_ now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me your nipples were aching? I could have assisted,” Harry purred wickedly, snaking his hand up the hem of Draco’s jumper, rubbing his fingertips against one of his sore nipples.

Draco mewled softly, shutting his eyes as Harry rubbed his pebbled nipple. “I-I don’t want you touching me at all, especially not _now_.”

Harry stopped his ministration on his nipple. “Do you think that because you’re pregnant now, I won’t _touch_ you?” he scoffed, “you need my touch, Draco. Don’t be obstinate.”

Draco shook his head, reaching up with one hand and digging his nails into Harry’s arm. “I don’t care. I don’t want you anywhere near us!”

Harry gave a low chuckle. “ _Us_? So now you’re going to try to use my unborn child to convince me not to touch you? It won’t work, pet. You heard the Healer, you need me,” he let his large hand slide down Draco’s chest until it rested against his lower stomach, “you _both_ need me, pet.”

Warmth suffused the skin that Harry was touching, making Draco want to purr with satisfaction.

 _Alpha_ , _want_ , _need_ , his inner Omega desperately pleaded.

Draco shook his head, inwardly fighting his instincts to lean into Harry’s embrace. “No. This pregnancy doesn’t change my feelings about you. You’re the reason I’m stressed, Harry. It’s better for me to be away from you, so _let go_.”

Draco jerked out of his arms, turning to glare up at him, unshed tears blurring his vision. “Just stay _away_ from me! I hate you and I don’t want your disgusting hands on me, or my baby!”

Harry just stared down at him, his eyes giving nothing away. “My touch is so abhorrent to you, is it?”

Draco set his jaw and nodded.

Harry eyes became shuttered of all emotion, giving Draco that cruel smirk he _loathed_. “Fine. Let our pup suffer due to your own carelessness. I won’t touch you. Let’s see how long you can hold out. By not following the Healer’s advice, you will lose our pup and the only one to blame will be _yourself_.”

Harry brushed past him, leaving Draco alone in the drawing room.

Draco wrapped his arms around himself, letting his tears finally fall, quietly sniffling.

He felt achingly _bereft_.

**XXX**

Draco burrowed further underneath his covers, screwing his eyes shut in frustration.

It had been three days since the Healer had visited and Harry had kept to his promise.

He didn’t touch Draco. He didn’t speak to him. He didn’t _look_ at him.

Draco had stayed in his room most of the time, feeling overly tired. He slept on and off during the day, only waking when Kreacher would get him up to eat. He knew it was because of his pup sapping his energy, but he didn’t mind.

What he _did_ mind was the sudden spike in his libido.

The sore nipples, being excessively tired, and sporadic bouts of morning sickness were all symptoms he could handle by himself.

Being inexplicably horny at the most random times was something he found he _couldn’t_ handle by himself. Even though he had attempted to wank off multiple times, he could never do it to completion. He felt on edge, frustrated and angry.

Even now, slick was oozing from his hole, his prick unbearably hard between his legs.

His body yearned for his Alpha and it sickened him.

He would _not_ break down and beg for Harry to touch him. If he did that…he considered it to be losing the final piece of himself that he was trying so desperately to hold onto.

Letting out a frustrated huff of air, he slid his palm beneath his pyjama bottoms, finally pressing between his legs.

He bit his lower lip between his teeth, his cock throbbing under his touch. It was all wrong. His hands were too soft, he needed the rough touch of…

Draco wanted to scream. Well, scream or cry, he wasn’t quite sure.

He _didn’t_ need Harry to pleasure himself. He just needed to focus.

Draco grasped his erection and began slowly sliding his hand up and down, smearing his pre-cum along his shaft. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on alleviating his tension.

It wasn’t enough.

He let go of his prick and pressed his trembling fingers lower, until they rested against his wet hole. He let his middle finger sink into his hole, his slick easing the penetration. He bit down harder on his lip, trying to reign in a moan. He added a second finger, spearing himself. When he began pumping them in and out of his slickened hole, he couldn’t hold back a tiny whimper that escaped him.

His thoughts unconsciously drifted to the hazy, hated memory of Harry fucking him during his heat, speeding up his fingers to match the pace of Harry’s remembered thrusts into his limp body…

The sound of his door slamming open made him pull his fingers from his hole and hastily turn to his side, pulling the covers over his head.

He held completely still beneath the covers, shaking.

“I know you’re not sleeping, Draco.”

Harry’s voice made him jolt, but he didn’t remove the covers from overtop his head.

In the next second, the covers were ripped off him, making him let out a yelp of surprise.

Harry stood on his side of the bed, glaring down at him, his chest rising and falling with harsh breaths. “You can’t hide from me, pet. I can _smell_ you.”

Draco sat up, pulling his legs up and wrapping his arms around his knees protectively. “W-what do you want? It’s the middle of the night.”

Harry snorted, dropping the sheet. “This is my home; you are _my_ Omega. I can do whatever I want.”

Draco drew his brows together, noticing that Harry’s words sounded slightly slurred. “Are you…are you drunk?”

Harry began undressing, clumsily pulling off his shirt over his head. “And if I am?” he drawled.

“What the hell are you doing? Put your clothes back on and get away from me!” Draco shouted, scrambling backwards on the bed.

Harry knelt on the bed, clad in just black boxer briefs. “I’m tired of this childish game. My pregnant Omega needs me, and I intend to provide.”

Draco shook his head and tried to scoot further away, but Harry grabbed his ankle and dragged him underneath of him.

“Do you think I don’t know when you’re fucking touching yourself?” Harry grabbed his wrist and sucked Draco’s slick-coated fingers into his mouth, twining his tongue around his digits. Harry groaned around his fingers and Draco felt a fresh gush of slick between his legs in response.

“I-It’s normal. I read about it. It’s not because of you or anything,” he whispered.

Harry opened his eyes, letting Draco’s fingers slide out of his heated mouth, his fingers now coated in Harry’s saliva.

“I know you’ve been touching yourself often. I can smell you, _fuck_ —I can smell you all the time—” Harry dropped his head and kissed Draco’s marked gland, licking it.

Draco moaned and spread his legs as Harry pressed his hips between them. Harry smelled like alcohol, but his pheromones were still potent enough to overpower the scent, fucking with Draco’s head.

He buried his fingers into Harry’s thick hair, attempting to pull him away.

Harry grabbed the bottom of Draco’s pyjama top and tugged. “Take this off. Let me see,” he demanded.

Draco shook his head, dazedly rocking his hips against the ridge of Harry’s erection under his underwear. “N-no, please, just go. Leave me alone.”

Harry pulled back, his expression morphing into one of rage. “You intend to deny me still? You’re _my_ Omega and you’re carrying _my_ pup and I won’t fucking let you keep pushing me away. You _need_ this.”

”I don’t care! I’ll figure out a way to get through this pregnancy _without_ you!”

Harry’s eyes became cold, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “So you intend to keep denying us both? Maybe I’ll slake my thirst using another Omega. A nice, willing hole to take my obviously unwanted knot. Maybe I’ll even fuck them right in front of you, let you watch. Perhaps that will change your mind on the subject.”

Draco felt an unwanted stab of jealousy in his heart, his ears burning with mortification at the realization. 

The thought of _his_ Alpha fucking someone else—

“I don’t care, fuck whoever you want—“ his voice caught, unable to finish his sentence.

He blinked, fighting back tears, averting Harry’s gaze when he saw him smugly smirk.

“What a show you put on, pet, but I’m done playing. You’re wet and we both know we’ll feel better after this.”

Draco let out a startled shriek when Harry ripped open the buttons of his pyjama top, baring him.

Harry hungrily raked his gaze over him, his pupils dilating until his eyes appeared almost fully black.

Draco knew how he looked.

His nipples had become swollen and had gradually darkened to a deep rose color due to his pregnancy.

No matter what he did, the ache in his chest wouldn’t abate and his nipples only seemed to become more swollen as the days went by. He had read that an Omega would need his Alpha’s healing saliva, especially during pregnancy to alleviate any discomfort his body would undergo as it changed and adjusted to accommodate his pup.

“Do they hurt?” Harry asked, painfully pinching one between his fingers.

Draco sucked in a sharp breath, grabbing Harry’s wrist. “Y-yes, they’re sore. Stop it, _please_.”

Harry released his nipple and lowered his head, sticking out his tongue to softly lap at the swollen nub. Draco whimpered, the sensations of Harry’s tongue and his dark hair brushing against the sensitive skin of his chest overwhelming him.

“H-Harry, please,” he softly begged.

Harry let out a low growl, hollowing his cheeks as he harshly sucked.

Draco tried pushing away from him with his hand. “If you keep doing that, I’ll c-come. Stop, _stop_.”

Harry stopped sucking and began kissing down his chest, halting when his lips reached his stomach. He pulled back; his black hair mussed from Draco’s fingers. His intense gaze was almost _reverent_ , leaning down to nuzzle against Draco’s stomach, marking him with his scent.

Draco was terribly aroused and terribly _confused_.

He shouldn’t have been taking comfort in Harry’s damning touch, but he _was_.

Harry ripped off Draco’s pyjama bottoms, tossing them to the side. He also pulled off his own underwear, carelessly tossing them to the side too.

Draco flushed and let his legs fall open in surrender when Harry went back to kissing down his stomach, nuzzling against his sparse pubic hair before he felt Harry’s wet tongue press against his leaking prick.

“I-It’s too much,” Draco stammered.

“You can take it,” Harry grated, just before sucking Draco’s prick into his mouth.

Draco let out a choked whimper, arching his hips up from the bed.

Harry bobbed his head up and down on Draco’s prick, easily taking him to the hilt. With no warning, he sunk two of his thick fingers into Draco’s leaking hole, scissoring them apart, stretching him painfully wide.

Draco keened and pinched his own nipples between his fingers, undulating under Harry’s skilled mouth and fingers.

When Harry added a third finger, he curled them, pressing against his prostate. The suction of Harry’s mouth and pressure from his fingers tipped him over the edge, making him come with high-pitched moan. His vision briefly went white, heat licking up his spine and making his body feel as it were ablaze as his orgasm inexorably ripped through him. Harry swallowed his cum, pulling back to lick up the rest of his release that dribbled down his cock.

As he came down, he barely registered Harry crawling up his body and positioning the head of his cock against his slick-covered hole.

“W-wait, no,” he protested weakly.

“Enough, pet.” Harry rammed his cock into Draco’s wet entrance, groaning.

Draco gritted his teeth and threw his head back against the mattress, trying to adjust to Harry’s huge cock inside of him.

Harry reached over Draco’s head and grabbed the top of the headboard with both hands, using the leverage to begin delivering punishing thrusts, the bed banging against the wall as he pounded into him.

Draco hooked his feet around Harry’s waist, digging his heels in. His prick was already hard again, the leaking head rubbing against Harry’s hard abdomen, smearing pre-cum against Harry’s tanned skin as he roughly fucked him.

Harry let go of the headboard and placed his hands on either side of Draco’s head, never ceasing his relentless thrusts into Draco’s wet hole. He lowered his head and pressed his lips against Draco’s ear, their sweat slicked chests touching.

“Gonna come again?” he whispered darkly, pistoning his cock between his legs.

Draco flushed, delighting in the feel of Harry’s coarse chest hair rubbing against his oversensitive nipples.

“Come on, baby, come for _daddy_ ,” Harry snarled, snapping his hips against Draco’s.

Harry’s filthy words made Draco come with a shocked whimper, his cum shooting up between them and coating both of their chests with the hot fluid.

Harry growled and smashed his mouth against Draco’s, shoving his tongue into his mouth. Draco dazedly licked against Harry’s tongue, closing his eyes and losing himself in the desperate kiss, his body still tingling with the remnants of his orgasm.

Draco could only lay there limply with his legs spread as Harry brutally fucked into him.

Harry pulled away from their kiss, his hips stuttering before halting their assault as he shuddered and came, shooting his load deep inside of Draco.

Harry carefully extracted himself, rolling to his back next to Draco, his chest heaving with deep breaths.

He realized that Harry hadn’t knotted him. He was glad because he didn’t know if he could stand to be connected to him longer than necessary. Reality suddenly came crashing down with that thought, Harry’s cum slowly leaking out of Draco, mixing with his slick and coating the sheets beneath his hips.

Had he just _willingly_ had sex with his captor?

And to his utter horror, he realized he had actually _enjoyed_ it.

Harry turned and gently wrapped his arm around Draco’s middle, pulling him back until his back was flush against his sticky chest.

“Feel better, pet?” he whispered against his ear before nuzzling against Draco’s marked gland, playfully nipping at it with his teeth.

Draco shuddered, baring his throat even more for his Alpha’s attention.

Harry’s hand trailed down Draco’s side cupping his flat stomach with his large hand.

“Do you _both_ feel better?”

Draco felt shame wash over him, mixing with a heavy dose of guilt. He had just let his abusive captor fuck him and had _enjoyed_ it.

He closed his eyes and burrowed his face into the sheets, letting himself be lulled to sleep as Harry caressed his stomach, feeling his Alpha transfer some of his magic through his touch. It warmed him, seeming to reach to his very _soul_.

A contended purr sounded from his chest as Harry’s magic suffused him, losing himself in the dizzying influx of his Alpha’s magic and pheromones suddenly overtaking his body.

 _Sorry, jellybean_ , his mind whispered, tears leaking from the corner of his eyes.

 _I guess I really am a coward_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it was a long chapter, but I NEEDED to write the smut. 💅🏻


	8. Loved Burden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A N G S T_
> 
> Sorry, guys. I was super sad when I wrote this chapter. 
> 
> (I was going to write this chapter from Harry's POV, but I think the closer to the end this story is, the better it will be that Harry's thoughts remain unknown for right now.)

Time passed.

Before Draco knew it, he was three months pregnant.

The morning sickness had finally abated somewhat, and he found that he had more energy more now. When he would get out of the shower, he would examine himself in the mirror. He wasn’t showing that much, but he had always been naturally thin, so the small swell of his stomach made it apparent that he was with child.

Kreacher always made sure he ate at least three meals a day, becoming stubborn if he refused to snack in between.

Draco knew it was all Harry.

He was making the house-elf monitor him closely. He wasn’t sure what to think of it. He wasn’t sure if Harry was really worried about his pregnancy or _him_ as a person.

He wanted to believe that Harry cared for him _and_ his jellybean, but deep down, he knew that was a lie. Harry definitely had an endgame, but Draco was unable to foresee what it exactly was.

Harry had begun coming to his room regularly at night.

After the first time he had barged in while drunk, he had started coming back each night. Draco had fought him at first, but he knew it wasn’t a good idea to try to overexert himself so early in his pregnancy. Each time, Harry would be cold and clinical as he fucked him. He always made sure that Draco was leaking slick and moaning for more before he would take him, but always ended up fucking him from behind. After Harry would finish, he would always be sure to transfer some of his magic to his jellybean, ensuring that Draco’s pup was being taken care of.

Though they shared their bodies, they never shared their minds. Harry was always cryptic and cold, not wanting to divulge more than necessary about his past.

Draco had begun having nightmares. He knew it was due to his captivity and concern over his growing pup.

Since he wasn’t allowed to take any sleeping potions due to his pregnancy, he would involuntarily call out for his Alpha each night. The Omega within him craved the company of his mate and his pregnancy only made the visceral _need_ that much more intense. Eventually, Harry had begun sleeping in bed with him at night after they would fuck.

Draco would wake up in the middle of the night and find himself curled around Harry. He would feel instant revulsion, immediately recoiling from the cruel man.

It often bothered him, what was happening between them.

But it wasn’t the rape of his body that bothered him the most, it was the rape of his _heart_.

Harry was his mate and the father of his pup and his body knew that. It eagerly welcomed his touch and his jellybean continued to grow stronger because of his transference of magic. His heart, however, was an entirely different story.

He wanted _more_.

Draco wanted love.

At least, that was what he _thought_ he wanted. He had never actually _been_ in love and since Harry was his first for everything, he couldn’t really process his feelings as a normal person in love would.

He knew it was insane to want such a thing from a man like _Harry_ , but he was unable to repress it.

In the mornings when he would wake up, covered in Harry scent and cum, his pup growing inside of his womb, he would become hopelessly depressed.

He tried to blame his shameful feelings on their forced bond and his pregnancy, but it wasn’t just that anymore.

Harry was an enigma to Draco.

He never revealed anything private about himself and Draco was still unsure of what exactly he wanted from him.

One night, after they were lying in the bed in silence after having sex, Draco had scooted closer to him. He didn’t know what had possessed him in that moment, but he had just felt the overwhelming need to _touch_ him.

Gingerly, he had raised one of his shaking fingers and traced the sharp slant of Harry’s nose.

Harry had tensed but allowed it.

After a moment’s hesitation, Draco had continued tracing his features: his mouth, his lips, and his hairline. Draco had suddenly noticed a scar on his forehead, hidden beneath his raven hair. It had struck him as odd because the scar was in the exact shape of a lightning bolt.

When he had pressed his finger to it, Harry had grabbed his wrist, stopping him…

 _“Don’t.”_

_Harry wasn’t looking at him, just staring at the ceiling with that inscrutable expression of his. When he wore that closed off expression, it made Draco want to scream. He wanted to beg the older man to talk to him, sing to him,_ look _at him—_ anything _, anything except his usual insufferable silence._

_“How did you get it?”_

_Harry released his wrist, lapsing into silence. For a moment, Draco thought that Harry had fallen asleep. When he began speaking, Draco jolted slightly in surprise._

_“From a man. A long time ago.”_

_“This man hurt you on purpose, then?” Draco pressed, cuddling closer to him._

_Harry looked as if he were clenching his jaw, but Draco couldn’t be quite sure in the darkness of the room._

_“Yes.”_

_Draco found himself wanting to learn more about Harry and his past._

_What had happened to him to make him this way? Would he even be able to love their pup when it was born? Most importantly, would his jellybean change things between them?_

_Draco licked his suddenly dry lips. “What happened to the man?”_

_“I killed him.”_

_Draco furrowed his brows, confused at Harry’s admission. He certainly didn’t doubt that Harry had murdered before, but he had a feeling that he only killed with purpose. “All over a tiny scar?”_

_Harry chuckled, but it sounded hollow. “Not just because of the scar, Draco.”_

_Draco idly wondered if it had to do with the young man who was in the portrait in the forbidden bedroom._

_Draco placed a palm over his belly, slowly rubbing it in circles, thinking._

_“Does it hurt still?”_

_Harry turned his head, a lock of his dark hair falling over one of his eyes. He stared at Draco, almost as if trying to convey something through their bond but was unable to form the right words._

_He did that a lot._

_The urge to scream at him came back. Draco wished he would just_ tell _him._

_“It no longer hurts, no.”_

_“But did you—”_

_“I don’t wish to speak about this anymore. Cease your incessant chatter, pet. Go to sleep.”_

_Harry closed his eyes then, pulling Draco next to him and placing his large hand on top of his belly._

_Draco reluctantly closed his eyes as well, disappointed with Harry’s response. Before he drifted to sleep, his Alpha’s pheromones making him purr, he had an inane thought._

_What if one day, the memory of Harry would be like a scar for Draco?_

_When he would think of him, would it_ hurt _?_

_He hoped not._

_Even though the room was quiet, he was screaming within his mind._

**XXX**

“You’re so much smaller than I was. I was huge, even early on.”

Draco smiled shyly, shifting into a more comfortable position on the sofa next to Hermione.

Harry’s best friend, Hermione Granger, had begun coming to see him once a week.

Sometimes she brought her cute daughter, Rose. Draco loved when they came to visit, because it was the only times he actually felt _normal_.

Hermione would keep him company and chat with him, sometimes even bringing small presents. She had knitted small mittens for his pup, yellow ones. The stitching was slightly off, but Draco loved them, nonetheless.

Harry allowed their visits, checking in on them every so often when she did come to visit. He kept his collar hidden from view with collared shirts per Harry's instruction. Draco knew that he wasn’t supposed to talk about their relationship or how Harry _actually_ behaved behind closed doors. Afterall, he had his unborn pup to think of now. If he could just make it through his pregnancy unscathed, he would plan an escape.

In a way, Draco was using Harry just as much as he was using him. He needed his Alpha’s magic and pheromones for their pup, and he wasn’t going to risk losing his jellybean by trying to attempt a reckless escape.

All that mattered now was his jellybean.

He would make it through this for his jellybean. If his mother had fought to keep him alive in the womb without his father and survived, Draco would fight for his pup and escape Harry.

It was just a waiting game now.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I thought it would be fun to look at some old photos of us when we were younger. I’ll show you that Harry wasn’t always so serious-looking,” Hermione said, laughing softly.

Draco scooted closer to her, his interest piqued. “You mean there was time that Harry was _young_?”

Hermione giggled and nodded, some of her curls falling from behind her ears. “Believe it or not, there was a time when _I_ was young, too.”

“You don’t look a day over twenty-one, Hermione.”

Hermione smiled. “You’re such a flatterer, Draco. Harry couldn’t have chosen a better mate.”

 _Chosen_ wouldn’t exactly be the right word. More like _forced_.

“But yes, there was a time when we were both young and mischievous. I think all we did was get into trouble at Hogwarts, but we always had fun together. Ron included.”

Draco smiled wistfully. “I wish I could have gotten to experience going to Hogwarts. My mother was sort of protective.”

Hermione pulled a stack of photos from her bag, setting them on her lap. “Well, knowing what your mother has been through, I’m not surprised she wanted to you to remain hidden. I suppose I understand her need to protect you from certain things, being a mother myself.”

Draco arched a brow. “Been through?”

Hermione studied him for a moment, her deep brown eyes assessing. “Maybe that’s something you should discuss with Harry. Your mother’s past is something you’d probably be more comfortable learning about from your mate.”

Draco wanted to press, but he was afraid Harry would get mad. “Okay. I’ll talk to him about it.”

Hermione nodded and picked up the first photo, passing it to Draco.

“We took this one in the common room at Hogwarts. I think it was the week of a particularly difficult series of exams. That’s probably why we all look knackered.”

Draco studied the moving photo, his eyes immediately drawn to Harry.

Harry looked younger. His black hair was shaggy and there weren’t any lines creasing the skin next to his eyes. He also had glasses on in the photo, something he no longer wore. What surprised Draco most was the smile turning up Harry’s lips.

It wasn’t conniving or condescending. It was just a genuine smile.

He had never seen Harry smile like that. At least, not for _him_ …

Draco’s fingers holding the photo began to tremble.

Hermione and Ron sat next to him on the lumpy sofa pictured, wearing wan smiles, their eyes bright with hope and possibility.

 _Hope_.

Something Draco felt was slipping through his fingers lately. He needed to hold onto it or there would be no future for him and his pup.

“You guys do look tired…” Draco said softly, trying not to let his despair creep into his voice.

Hermione chuckled and took the photo from his hands, replacing it with another one.

Draco’s breath caught.

“I took this one. It was on the bridge outside of Hogwarts. I thought myself a professional photographer back then. Harry was my favorite person to photograph. He was a natural.”

The photo depicted a teenage Harry, maybe even at the age that Draco was now. He was leaning over the side of the covered wooden bridge, his black hair mussed from the wind. He was laughing, a white owl perched on his outstretched arm. A striped scarf was haphazardly wrapped around his neck, the emblem of his House on his school jumper visible just beneath it. He looked impossibly _young_ and carefree and—

He was beautiful.

And he looked…

 _Happy_.

Draco’s vision blurred, a small hiccup escaping him.

“Draco?” Hermione asked, her voice laced with concern.

Draco shook his head, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. A single tear slid from the corner of his eye and fell to photo, the droplet landing on Harry’s face. It warped his image, making his features indistinguishable.

He didn’t know what had happened to the boy in the photograph.

 _Was there anything left of him_?

“Are you all right, darling?”

Hermione scooted closer to him, placing a hand on his arm.

“Y-yeah. It’s just, um, hormones,” Draco stammered, his voice thick with emotion.

He wished he could tell Hermione everything. He wished she could take him away from all of this. He wished…

Suddenly, Harry was kneeling in front of him on the sofa. His green eyes were filled with worry.

“Draco? What’s happened, love?”

 _Love_.

More tears slipped down Draco’s face. He wrapped a protective arm around his small stomach.

“N-nothing. Just hormones, Harry.”

Hermione slipped an arm behind his back, rubbing her hand in comforting circles against it.

“I think I upset him, Harry. I was showing him photos of when we were young back at Hogwarts.”

Harry took his trembling hand into his own, rubbing his thumb in small circles against his skin. “Why don’t we go lay down for a while, sweetheart? You’re tired. You know what Arlen said about your stress levels.”

Draco reluctantly nodded. “Okay.”

Harry helped him to his feet and placed his hand on the small of his back.

Draco gave Hermione an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about the way I’m acting, Hermione. It really is just hormones. I cry about everything these days.”

Hermione shook her head. “It’s quite all right, Draco. I remember what it was like. Go get some rest and I’ll see you next week, okay?”

When Hermione pulled him close for a quick hug, he wanted to sob.

It was the first hug he’d received since parting from his mother. She smelled like sunshine and citrus. It felt wonderful.

“Thank you, Hermione,” he whispered into her curls, hugging her back.

 _Thank you so much_.

**XXX**

When Hermione left through Floo, Harry led Draco upstairs to his room. Once the door was closed behind him, Harry whirled on him.

“Do you mind sharing what that little performance was about?” he asked coldly.

Draco ignored him, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed. “Just go away, Harry. I’m not in the mood for your capricious moods. I don’t feel well.”

Harry silently walked over to where he sat, staring down at him. “What upset you?”

Draco remained silent, staring at his bare feet.

Harry’s arm shot forward, wrapping his fingers around his wrist and jostling him. “ _What_ upset you?”

“The _photo_ ,” Draco spat. “The photo of you with the owl on your arm, okay? Will you please leave me alone now?”

Harry released his wrist, arching a brow. “The photo of when I was a teenager. Why would that upset you?”

Draco pursed his lips, glaring up at him.

“Tell me the truth, or I won’t come to help you through your nightmares anymore. I’ll leave you to scream and beg for me at night. I’ll let you sleep alone at night after I fuck you. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest, Draco.”

Draco released a shuddering breath before responding. “It upset me because I wondered what the hell happened to you. You were happy in the photo, I could tell.”

Harry’s gaze hardened. “I’ll tell you what happened. Your bloody _family_ happened.”

Draco shot to his feet, wrapping his hands around stomach. “I don’t know what that _means_! You never tell me anything! What has my family done to you that was so horrible?” his voice dropped to a whisper, “what have _I_ done to you, Harry?”

Harry’s expression morphed into one of fury. He grabbed Draco’s hands and shoved him back onto the bed, placing his knees on either side of his hips. He pinned Draco’s wrists to the bed next his head, pressing down until it was almost painful.

“You have done nothing, pet. You are the repentance of your horrid family. The offering. Your pain is my revenge. If you must know, your precious mother was a Death Eater, like your pathetic father.”

“ _Death_ Eater?” Draco asked, unfamiliar with the term.

Harry smiled, but it wasn’t like the photo. It was cold, his green eyes swirling with hate.

“Yes. Your parents were Death Eaters. I know she never told you about her past or your father’s past, but I will tell you this: they were murderers. They were loyal to the man that killed my parents.”

 _Killed his_ parents _?_

Draco vehemently shook his head, denial on the forefront of his mind. “I don’t know about my father, but my mother is a good woman. She would never hurt anyone!”

Harry scoffed, releasing his hold on his wrists, placing them flat next to Draco’s head. “Keep telling yourself that, Draco. It won’t change what sins she and her husband have committed. Above of all, the sins committed against my loved ones.”

“L-like you’re even capable of love. I want to get _away_ from you. I want to go with Hermione. I want an Alpha who cares for me and my pup,” Draco whispered, unable to stop his tears from falling now.

Harry narrowed his eyes. “An Alpha who loves you, is that it?” he asked wryly. “What, fucking you on your hands and knees each night isn’t enough? You want _poetry_ and _flowers_?”

“Anyone would be better than you,” he hissed. “At least with an Alpha who _loved_ me, he would worship me instead of not talking to me and acting unbelievably cruel.”

A muscle jumped in Harry’s jaw. “Do you think I can’t feign affection for you, Draco?”

He lowered his head and lightly kissed down Draco’s throat, his lips hovering over his marked gland. “Do you want me to act as if we’re lovers, is that it?”

Harry reached under his shirt, cupping his swollen chest. “I can worship your body, Draco…”

Draco couldn’t hold back a moan, arching into Harry’s touch.

“Do you want me to tell you how much I crave you? How much my body yearns for yours?”

Harry pulled up Draco’s long-sleeved shirt, exposing his stomach and chest. His nipples were now permanently swollen, readying to nurse his pup once it was born. He tried to raise his hands to shield the small swell of his stomach, but Harry knocked his hands away.

“Don’t hide yourself from me. I like seeing you as you are now, knowing it was _me_ who fucked a pup into you,” Harry pressed his lips to Draco’s ear. “Not an imaginary man, but _me_ , Draco.”

Draco closed his eyes, his prick hardening against his will. “Please, stop. _Please_ , Harry.”

“But you wanted me to treat you as a lover, Draco. Who am I to deny my pregnant mate?”

Harry tugged Draco’s trousers and underwear off of him, tossing them to the side. Draco flushed when he felt slick ooze from his hole, his inner thighs tacky with it.

Harry pressed his fingers to his hole, smiling. “Already wet for your _lover_?”

His hated tone made Draco’s ears burn with mortification. “I-it’s not because of you, it’s the pregnancy. I _hate_ you.”

Harry snorted and reached down with one hand, unzipping the front of his trousers, pulling out his long, thick cock. It was hard, the head beading with pre-cum.

“Let’s make a deal, then. If I can make you come on my cock, you’ll take back your hurtful words. I am your _lover_ after all, Draco.”

“ _Shut up_!” Draco sobbed, unwillingly spreading his legs for his Alpha.

Even though Harry’s behavior disgusted him, his hole _throbbed_ for him. He craved Harry’s cum and pheromones, his stomach quivering with excitement.

“Mmm,” Harry hummed low in his throat, kneeling further over Draco and aligning his prick with his wet hole. “Let’s hear it, then. Scream about how much you despise me while I make _love_ to you.”

Without another word, Harry slowly sunk into him.

Draco let out a high-pitched whine, delighting in the feel of Harry’s thick cock impaling him and filling him. Harry began pumping into him with shallow strokes, watching him with hungry eyes.

“Do you fantasize about your imaginary man like this, fucking you slowly?”

“S-stop it, Harry,” Draco cried, lifting his hips to meet Harry’s tortuously slow thrusts.

“I’m just trying to _worship_ you, Draco,” Harry taunted, leaning down and sucking one of Draco’s swollen nipples into his mouth.

Draco keened, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck and trying to tug him closer to him.

Harry sped up his thrusts, avoiding _that_ euphoric spot inside of Draco. Harry released his nipple and pulled back, staring down at Draco with hooded eyes, his maddeningly slow thrusts never faltering.

“Feel good? Do you think your _imaginary_ Alpha could do better?”

“Please, Harry. _Please_ , I can’t stand it—”

Harry slowed his pistoning cock, just barely moving inside of him now. “Tell me you love me, and I’ll make you come.”

Draco’s eyes widened, his breath hitching. “W-what? I’m not going to _lie_!”

“Fine,” Harry said stiffly, pulling out of Draco. “Stay on the edge for the rest of the night. You need to come, lest you harm our pup with your stress. I won’t fuck you tonight and I won’t transfer my magic as a punishment. Perhaps your imaginary Alpha can keep you company during your nightmares tonight.”

“W-wait!” Draco stammered, pulling Harry back by the collar of his shirt. “I’ll.. _say it_. Just don’t…stop.”

Harry plunged his cock back into his hole, groaning low in his throat as Draco’s channel hungrily enveloped him.

He fucked him at a languid pace, the head of his cock _just_ brushing against his prostate each time he sunk into him.

“Say it. Say it and I’ll make you come, pet,” Harry ordered, sweat-dampened strands of his dark hair sticking to the sides of his handsome face.

Draco flushed, wrapping his legs around Harry’s waist for support. “I…I-I _love you_ ,” he sobbed, closing his eyes due to his own revulsion.

Harry took pity on him, angling his hips so that each of his thrusts rammed the head of his cock against his prostate.

Draco came with a shuddering cry, ropes of semen shooting up, splattering against his swollen chest and Harry’s shirt.

Harry let out a strangled growl, repeatedly slamming his cock into Draco’s hole, chasing his own release.

“S-slower, Harry, _please_ , the baby,” Draco begged, pressing a protective hand against his distended belly between them.

Surprising him, Harry slowed his thrusts and leaned down, taking Draco’s mouth with his own. It wasn’t rough or commanding. Harry kissed him like they were lovers, lightly tangling his tongue with Draco’s in a playful caress that made his toes curl and his body burn with the remnants of his orgasm.

When Harry came with a low grunt, Draco’s lips parted against his, whimpering into his mouth as he felt himself being filled with Harry’s semen.

Harry carefully pulled out of him, staring down at Draco with an unreadable expression. It was like he was trying to tell him something with his eyes again, attempting to convey something through their bond.

 _Just_ tell _me_ , _Harry_.

But Harry’s eyes became suddenly devoid of all emotion, that indifferent mask slipping back into place.

“That was sweet, Draco. Was it like you had imagined with your _perfect_ Alpha? Do you feel _worshipped_?”

Harry’s cruel words were like a slap to the face, shame overtaking his post-orgasm bliss. He turned away, not even bothering to clean himself up. He curled into a ball on the bed, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

“Just leave me alone,” he whispered, feeling nothing but disgust for himself and his earlier forced confession.

It was quiet for a moment behind him before he heard his door shut.

He laid there alone on the bed; the room unbearably silent around him.

But in his mind, he was screaming.


	9. Frightened Burden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: abusive behavior

At almost six months pregnant, Draco could _feel_ his jellybean inside of him now.

It had happened gradually.

At first, it was like butterfly wings brushing against the inside of his stomach, soft and fleeting. Then, it morphed into dull jabs, tangible and insistent.

Draco was reluctant to admit that his jellybean moved the most at night, when he was in Harry’s arms. His baby reacted to his Alpha’s magic, kicking incessantly when Harry would transfer his magic to his pup.

Although Harry had to feel their pup’s kicks in reaction to his touch, he never reacted to it.

The first time it had happened, Draco’s breath had hitched, craning his neck to gauge Harry’s reaction. Harry’s hand had been firmly pressed to his stomach, his cum still leaking out of Draco after they had just sex.

When their pup had nudged one of their feet against Harry’s palm on his stomach, something akin to excitement bubbled forth within Draco, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. When he had turned his head to look up at his Alpha, beaming up at him, that feeling was quickly doused.

When he had been met with Harry’s detached gaze, something had further wilted inside of Draco.

In every sense of the word, Harry _owned_ him in that moment.

He didn’t have to say anything. His claim was blatant in his possessive gaze, his heavy hand pressing down as their pup continued to excitedly shuffle around inside of him.

Draco was pregnant with his pup, mated to him, and his body already defiled by him numerous times since they’d met.

Maybe he would always feel owned by him. Maybe something inside of him had been irrevocably bound to Harry, indelibly branded on his very soul.

Maybe.

But while Harry owned Draco, he _didn’t_ own his pup. If he could get his jellybean away from their Alpha, maybe his jellybean could have a chance at an actual life. A life of _freedom_ and choices.

He tried to remain hopeful for his pup, but it was becoming increasingly difficult under Harry’s callous care.

He had hoped that as their pup grew, Harry’s treatment of him might change.

However, things remained the same, if not worse.

Over a month ago, Harry had approached him while he had been reading a book in his bedroom.

_“Arlen has cleared you for Floo travel. I’ll begin taking you to your checkups at St Mungo’s from now on until you give birth.”_

_Draco put aside his book, getting to his feet. “You’re going to allow me to leave the house?”_

_Harry wordlessly grabbed Draco’s wrist and pulled him close until his round stomach pressed against Harry’s hard abdomen. “Yes, but there’s something we need to talk about before I allow it.”_

_Draco stared up at him, slipping his hand between them to rest on his swollen stomach. “T-talk about?”_

_Harry lifted his hand and slid his fingers into the collar of Draco’s shirt, brushing them against his collar. “If I remove your collar, do you promise to be a good boy for me?”_

_Draco’s mouth went dry, unable to believe what Harry was offering. “Y-yes!” he blurted. “I promise I’ll be good, Harry._ Please _take it off, please.”_

_Harry stared down at him for several moments, his eyes giving nothing away. “Okay, Draco. I’ll remove the collar.”_

_Draco was unable to repress the joy that flared within him._

_He could have his magic back again!_

_Without his magic the past few months, he hadn’t felt whole. With his magic back, his jellybean would be able to draw from the internal stream of his own magic and he wouldn’t have to rely entirely on his Alpha for the growth of their pup._

_It wasn’t much, but it was_ something _._

 _Harry smirked and slid his hand up Draco’s neck and jaw, cupping his cheek. “Don’t get too eager, pet. You still need me, and you are still_ mine _. If you even think about using your magic to escape with my pup, I will Apparate directly to Azkaban and kill your mother. Do not test me, Draco. You will lose.”_

_Draco began trembling, unshed tears pricking his eyes. “Please, Harry. I won’t try to escape.”_

_Something flickered within Harry’s dark gaze, disappearing before Draco could try to discern it. “Promise me, Draco.”_

_Draco took his hand from his stomach and lifted it, cupping Harry’s stubbled jaw in return._

_“I promise.”_

**XXX**

**“** Are you sure you don’t want to know the sex?”

Draco laid on a medical bed at St Mungo’s in an examination room in the fertility ward. He was approaching his seventh month of pregnancy, and his jellybean was developing perfectly.

He smiled and shook his head. “I think I want it to be a surprise, Arlen.”

Truthfully, he didn’t want to know the sex yet. His pup’s rapidly approaching arrival weighed heavily on his mind nowadays and he found himself unable to quell the anxious thoughts that plagued him when he was alone. It was better if he didn’t know the sex yet. He didn’t want to think about it right now.

Arlen was seated next to him, writing notes. “I never took Harry as an Alpha that liked surprises. He doesn’t say much during your checkups. Silent, brooding type, I think they call them.”

Draco giggled softly, placing a hand on his belly. “He definitely doesn’t like surprises,” he mumbled.

His checkups at St Mungo’s felt like a reprieve. Hermione even sometimes accompanied them, and he had grown close to his Healer, Arlen. The kind Alpha was his assigned Healer for the duration of his pregnancy and Draco enjoyed their pleasant chitchat.

Arlen sighed, but kept writing. “He’s so different than what the Prophet has portrayed him as in the past. With a moniker like ‘ _The Savior_ ’ I suppose I would become somewhat of a recluse as well. I’m sure Harry wants to move on with his life. The war was already sixteen years ago, yet people still whisper his name whenever they think he’s not looking. It must become tedious after some time.”

Draco tightened his hand against his stomach, casting a surreptitious look at the closed door of the exam room. Harry had left to walk Hermione out and he knew he didn’t have much time.

“Can I ask you something, Arlen?” Draco asked softly.

Arlen stopped writing and glanced up. “Of course, Draco.”

“Well,” Draco said, struggling to sit up halfway on the bed. His growing belly was beginning to stunt his movements more and more as time went on. “Can you tell me a bit about what they used to write about Harry? I’m only sixteen and my mother was pregnant with me during the war. I don’t really know much about what caused it.”

Arlen took a deep breath and sat up straighter. “Well, we could be here for hours if I went into all of that, but I can tell you a bit. Harry Potter was the reason the war was won in the first place. He killed Voldemort and stopped most of his Death Eaters. The ones that survived are all rotting in Azkaban now. Good riddance, if you ask me. The Prophet continued to write about Harry well after the war. He’s been in the limelight most of his life.”

Draco wanted to ask who Voldemort was, but there was one thing he wanted to ask about above all else.

“And the...Death Eaters, they were always… _bad_ people?” he asked, his voice sounding strained.

Arlen nodded distractedly, rolling up Draco’s shirt to press a hand against his lower stomach. “You could say that. People who aligned with the wrong beliefs, lost souls, what have you.”

Draco nodded slowly. “I see.”

 _Had his mother been a…lost soul_?

“Any tenderness when I press here?”

Draco shook his head, eking out a small smile. “No, but I think my baby is running out of room in there. At night, it feels as if there’s a parade inside of my stomach.”

Arlen chuckled, his brown eyes warm. “My mate said the same thing when he was pregnant with our daughter. Impatient to make their entrance into the world, hmm?”

Draco felt a twinge of jealousy. Why couldn’t he have been given to an Alpha like Arlen? He wasn’t as handsome as Harry, but he was so _nice_. He wished that Harry was kind and caring—

At that exact moment, Draco’s pup nudged against Arlen’s prodding hand, as if responding to Draco’s thoughts of Harry.

Arlen laughed. “I don’t think they like us talking about them like they’re not here, Draco.”

Draco grinned, placing his hand overtop Arlen’s on his stomach. “That’s funny. They usually only do that when Harry is touching my stomach. Must be restless today.”

The door to the exam room suddenly opened and Harry walked in, coming to an abrupt halt. His eyes immediately zeroed in on Arlen’s hand pressed against Draco’s bare stomach.

Draco snatched his hand away from Arlen’s as if it were on fire. “H-Harry,” he stammered in surprise.

Arlen smiled at Harry like nothing was amiss. “Your pup is quite active, Mr. Potter. You’ll have your work cut out for you.”

Harry’s eyes were narrowed, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Draco noticed his fingers were like a vise around the doorknob. Skilled with concealing his inner monster, Harry’s face was quickly wiped of all emotion. He smiled, but Draco knew it was practiced.

“Draco, it’s time for us to go home. You haven’t ate since breakfast. Thank you for all you’ve done today, Arlen.”

“Sure, let me just…” Draco shifted, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

Harry watched as Arlen helped him to his feet before Draco could object. Harry’s gaze lingered on Arlen’s hand when he platonically pressed it to the small of his back.

“T-thank you, Arlen,” Draco murmured.

Arlen let go of Draco and stepped back. “It’s no trouble at all, Draco. Take care of yourself and I’ll see you at your next appointment. It won’t be long now until you’re holding your pup in your arms.”

Draco gave him a wan smile, trying not to flinch when he felt Harry’s fingers gently curl around his upper arm.

“Let’s go home, love. You look tired.”

“Okay, Harry,” he answered, his pulse thrumming quicker as his thoughts drifted to what Harry would do to him once they returned home.

**XXX**

Once they stepped into the drawing room from the Floo, Harry pulled Draco forward by his arm, making him stumble slightly as he righted his feet.

“Go upstairs. Wait for me,” he ordered coolly.

Draco turned to look back at him, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

Anger was emanating from his Alpha in suffocating waves, making his inner Omega want to whine and present his throat in apology.

“Harry, what you saw wasn’t—”

“ _Now_ , pet.”

The barely restrained fury in his tone made Draco quickly leave the drawing room, protectively holding his stomach as he ascended the stairs.

After entering his bedroom, he went to sit on his bed, his knees feeling weak.

What did Harry have in mind for him? Would he _hurt_ him?

Draco let out a defeated hiccup of frustration, quickly swiping at the tear that slid down his cheek.

After about an hour, Draco rose from the bed and went into the adjoining bathroom in his room. He decided to take a shower to calm his nerves, his jellybean suspiciously inert since he had returned home.

Under the warm spray of the water, he massaged his stomach with one hand, trying to wake up his pup.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, jellybean. Mummy was just anxious,” he whispered, his words drowned out by the sound of the running water.

When his jellybean remained still inside of him, he turned off the water to the shower and pulled back the curtain.

He let out a startled gasp, almost losing his balance on the slippery surface beneath his feet.

Harry was standing in the doorway, one outstretched arm resting on the frame. His black button-down was open at the throat, revealing his tanned skin and hint of chest hair. His sleeves were rolled up, showcasing his corded forearms.

Draco’s lips parted, his breathing picking up.

Water sluiced down his chest, catching on his pebbled nipples. His body was reacting to his Alpha’s pheromones, slick beginning to seep from his hole and slip down his cleft, mixing with the water from his shower. His inner Omega knew when his Alpha was upset, his body becoming instinctually pliant and ready to soothe him.

“Careful, pet,” Harry rasped.

Draco flushed and covered his chest with his arm, still embarrassed by how swollen his breasts had become in the past few months.

Harry raked his eyes down Draco’s body, flicking back up to linger on his chest.

“They’re getting bigger,” he said and smirked when Draco tightened his arm over himself.

“Stop it,” Draco whispered, trying to shield his chest further from Harry’s leering gaze.

Harry rolled his eyes and sauntered over to him, stopping just in front of the porcelain tub. He reached out and hooked two fingers behind Draco’s wrist, giving it a tug.

“Show me.”

Draco’s face flamed, shaking his head. “Why should I?”

Harry’s gaze hardened before he ripped Draco’s arm away from his chest and held his wrist to the side, baring him.

“You weren’t acting so shy in front of that fucking Healer today,” he hissed, tipping up Draco’s chin with the fingers of his other hand.

Draco let out a huff of disbelief, his eyes widening. “There’s nothing going on between Arlen and I!”

Harry stepped closer and leaned down, his chest brushing against Draco’s sensitive nipples, making him shiver.

“Didn’t look like it to me, pet. It looked like you were letting another Alpha touch _my_ pup without me in the room.”

Harry lowered his hand and pressed it to the side of Draco’s stomach. Draco let out a relieved gasp when their pup immediately kicked in response.

“See?” Harry purred. “Our pup knows who Daddy is. I don’t want you letting anyone but me touch you, Draco. If he needs to touch you, _I_ need to be in the room.”

Draco’s lids felt heavy, slick starting to flow thicker between his legs because of Harry’s possessive words. He grabbed onto both of Harry’s forearms for balance, his wet belly pressing firmly against Harry, dampening his shirt. “I-I didn’t, Harry. He was just checking the baby, _please_ —”

Harry slid his hand back up, his long, rough fingers gliding smoothy due to his wet skin. He cupped one of his aching breasts, letting his thumb press against his nipple.

Draco moaned, arching so that his chest pressed into his hand further. “P-please, Harry, I want—"

Harry swiped his thumb across his swollen nipple, hungrily watching as a dribble of semi-opaque liquid beaded on the rosy tip.

“You’re lactating,” Harry said gruffly, smearing the warm liquid across his nipple with his thumb.

Draco sucked in a sharp breath, Harry’s touch sending electric tingles over his breast. His prick was already hard, the tip pressing against the rough fabric of Harry’s trousers. “I-It’s just colostrum, Arlen said it’s perfectly normal—”

Harry suddenly squeezed his breast, making Draco gasp. “I don’t want you to fucking mention him again. Especially when I’m touching you.”

“S-stop it, Harry. I-It _hurts_ ,” Draco whined, trying to pull Harry’s hand away from his breast.

Harry leaned down and began kissing down Draco’s wet throat, roughly sucking bruises into his skin.

“Good,” he mumbled between kisses. “I _want_ it to hurt. The way you were smiling at that fuck when he was touching your stomach…I should go back and strangle him, pet.”

Draco shook his head, droplets of water falling from his damp hair with the motion. “Please don’t hurt him, Harry. It was nothing, _please_ don’t—”

Harry pulled back, a cruel smile on his now wet lips. “Listen to yourself. Begging for that prick. Do you want him, Draco? Could he even make you as wet as I can? Would you spread your legs like a whore—”

Draco reared his hand back and slapped Harry across the face. It sounded deafening in the bathroom, accompanying a niggling ringing sound in Draco’s ears even though he wasn’t the one who had been slapped.

He pulled back, instant regret washing over him.

A glaring red handprint now adorned the side of Harry’s tan cheek.

Harry slowly turned his head, undiluted malice swimming in the green depths of his eyes. He went absolutely still, his mouth a harsh line. His mussed dark hair was slightly damp now, his stubbled jaw clenched.

“S-sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean to—”

Harry grabbed his wrist and yanked him from the shower, pulling him up when he stumbled over the lip of the tub.

Draco wrapped a supportive arm around his stomach, clumsily slipping forward on his wet feet. Before he could hit the floor, Harry scooped him up into a bridal carry.

As Harry carried him, he could feel his magic gathering inside of him, like a brewing storm because of his growing fear. He quickly tamped it back down, his jellybean’s continued kicks against his stomach reminding him of _why_ he had to behave.

“Harry, stop, _please_! You’re being too rough, you’re upset—”

Harry stopped in front of the armchair across from the bed. He sets Draco back on his feet, his unbridled expression of anger making Draco shrink back with fear.

“I don’t want to listen to your pleas anymore tonight, pet. _Cease_ speaking, I have a better use for your disobedient mouth and hands.”

Harry grabbed his wrist and yanked him closer.

“Get on your knees.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all requested **j e a l o u s** Harry. Did I deliver?
> 
> More to come next chapter. 👀


	10. Broken Burden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been getting hate comments/and or comments rudely _telling_ me how this fic is going to inevitably end. 
> 
> Truthfully, it disappoints me. I write these fics because I _enjoy_ writing them. I take time out of my day to write these fics and it’s no easy task. It’s difficult and time-consuming, but I’m still gonna do it cause ain’t nothing gonna deter me from finishing these stories. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this chapter! 
> 
> Here’s my [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/deity_kitty) if you guys wanna follow me!🖤
> 
> And to all my readers who leave super sweet comments:
> 
> I 🖤 u. Keep on keepin’ on.

Draco clumsily got to his knees, widening his stance to accommodate his swollen stomach.

He looked up at Harry, hoping he wouldn’t invoke any more of his anger by doing something wrong. 

“Is-is this okay, Harry?”

Harry smirked and sat in the armchair in front him, his legs lazily spread. 

“That’s good, Draco. Now,” Harry shifted, pulling his leaking cock from the front his trousers, “suck me off.”

Draco swallowed, his mouth instantly pooling with saliva at the sight of his Alpha’s erect cock. 

“I’ve never done that before...” Draco said weakly, averting his eyes. 

“Well, what better time than the present, pet? Now, _show_ me that you’re sorry for what you’ve done.”

Draco looked up Harry, flushing under his intense gaze. He knew that Harry was upset, his anger being stoked by Draco’s alleged flirtations with Arlen.

Harry sighed and rested his chin in hand, placing his elbow on the arm of the chair, a look of boredom on his face. “I’m waiting, pet. Hurry up before I change my mind and your punishment will be being locked in this room for three days without my touch.”

A spike of panic lanced him, his pulse quickening at Harry’s threat. 

Draco placed his shaking hands on Harry’s spread knees, scooting forward on his knees. 

”Please, no, Harry,” he begged. “I’ll be good. I’ll do what you want.”

Harry reached forward with his free hand and took Draco’s face between his fingers, pinching. “Then get to it, pet.”

When Harry released him, he reluctantly lowered his gaze between his legs. Harry’s cock was massive, the thick head sheening with pre-cum. 

“Put your lips around it,” Harry instructed tightly.

Draco lowered his head, tentatively daubing his tongue against Harry’s erection. The salty tang of his pre-cum had him lapping at the bulbous head, moaning softly. 

The taste of his Alpha’s fluids made desire unfurl low in stomach, his prick hardening between his legs.

”Do I taste _sweet_ to you, Draco?” Harry taunted cruelly, sliding his fingers into his hair and gently tugging at his roots.

Draco chose not to respond, wrapping his lips around Harry’s shaft and flattening his tongue against his frenulum. He licked up to the slit where Harry’s pre-cum was flowing from, wanting to savor every drop.

Harry groaned, his thighs rigid beneath Draco’s trembling fingers.

”Do you imagine doing this to your beloved Healer, Draco?” Harry purred, shoving his length further into his mouth.

Draco screwed his eyes shut, trying to adjust to Harry’s considerable girth as it stretched his lips. Shame made his ears burn, while twisted arousal made his prick throb and his hole leak.

”No? Then tell me, Draco, if not your _precious_ Healer, who are you thinking of?”

Tears burned behind Draco’s lids, his knees hurting from pressing into the hard floor. His stomach felt heavy, his back hurting from his uncomfortable position. 

He remained silent.

”No comment? Hmm.”

Harry pressed down on the back of Draco’s head, sinking his shaft further down his throat. 

Draco choked when his cock hit the back of his throat, spittle escaping the sides of mouth and sluicing down the veins of Harry’s throbbing shaft.

Draco’s sore breasts were rubbing against the edge of seat cushion between Harry’s legs, colostrum leaking from the tips due to Harry’s rough stimulation of them in the bathroom.

When he felt Harry’s foot nudge his erection, he whimpered around his length.

Harry let out a strained chuckle. “Are you _enjoying_ sucking me off, Draco? How does it feel, knowing that I’m the one who gets you hard? If I reach between your legs, will I find you _wet?”_  
  
Draco abruptly pulled away from Harry’s cock, supporting his stomach with his arm. “Stop it, Harry. I-I can’t take anymore of this. _Please_ let me get up...the baby is uncomfortable.”

Harry narrowed his eyes and reached down, wrapping his fingers around Draco’s upper arm and tugging. “Straddle me.”

With Harry’s help, Draco got to unsteadily to his feet. He gingerly placed one knee on the cushion of the armchair, then the other, bracketing Harry’s hips. His belly was between them, pressing against Harry’s abdomen. 

He hated that his jellybean was between them, like a witness to Harry’s abusive behavior. He wanted Harry to fuck him like they always did, facing away from each other. This position was too... _intimate_ , too personal.

Like they were— _mates_.

”There,” Harry said in a low, soothing tone. “I can be magnanimous, pet. Do you both feel better?” 

Harry lightly pressed his palm against Draco’s stomach, shooting him a devilish grin when their pup kicked in reaction to their Alpha’s touch.

” _Stop_ ,” Draco murmured, knocking Harry’s hand away.

It wasn’t fair to his jellybean to be caught in the middle of this. They were just an innocent pup, reacting to their parents’ combined magic. They didn’t deserve to be used by Harry like a _pawn_ , an instrument to get Draco to do what he wanted.

”Its _my_ child, Draco, and you’re _my_ Omega. I’ll touch you whenever I please.”

Harry’s prick prodded against the rim of his hole from behind, his slick making his shaft slide sinuously against it. 

Draco inhaled sharply, aching to be filled.

Harry smirked knowingly and tilted his hips, his cock pressing against his wet hole. He wrapped both his hands around Draco’s upper arms, pulling him lower, trying to sink into him.

Draco shook his head, the damp ends of his hair tickling his bare shoulders. “No, _please_ ,” he said softly.

Harry went still beneath him, the head of his cock just barely touching his slick-covered hole.

”Does that make it easier for you?” Harry asked coldly.

Draco looked down at Harry. His green eyes were filled with anger, his fingers digging painfully into the skin of Draco’s arms.

”W-what are you talking about?” 

“Every time I fuck you, you beg and plead for me to stop, but raise your hips in the air for more after each thrust. Is that how you’re able to live with yourself, Draco? By acting like you hate it?”

Draco shook his head, his prick caught between his distended belly and Harry’s hard stomach. His body was on fire, his nipples still dripping and erect. If his Alpha didn’t fuck him, he’d be miserable for the rest of the night.

“I give you my cock each night, make you come multiple times with it _and_ my tongue, yet you still put on this fucking tired act. I’m tired of this game, pet. You _ask_ me for it, or you’re not getting it tonight.”

Draco’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “I’m not—I’m not _asking_ for it, Harry. You’re mad!”

Harry shrugged and released his arms. “Then get off of me. It makes no difference to me. I’ll leave you to wail and cry in this room, craving my touch and regretting your stubborn attitude.”

His fear of solitude and loneliness pressed in on him from all sides, his heart feeling crushed from the weight of his own hopelessness. 

The thought of spending three days _alone_ without Harry to help him through his nightmares, or rub his belly until he fell asleep—

When Harry shifted, Draco pressed his hands to his chest to still him. “W-wait, Harry.”

Harry leaned back, arching a brow. “What is it, Draco? Do you have something to ask? Make it sweet and maybe I’ll consider it.”

Draco felt hatred, hatred like he’d never felt before. It surged forth within him, cutting through his pride like a searing knife, burning away any remnants of respect for himself he had left.

He hated _Harry_. He hated _himself_ and he _hated_ what he was about to do.

” _Please_ ,” Draco choked out. “Make love to me, Harry. I... _want_ it, please.”

Harry lips turned up in a smug, self-satisfied smile. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, Draco?”

Tears slipped down Draco’s cheeks, his body on the cusp of overstimulation and his heart on the precipice of shattering. The only thing that kept him tethered to the present was the insistent press of his baby’s restless feet against his lower stomach. 

“ _No_ ,” he answered hollowly. “It wasn’t.”

Harry’s expression was familiarly reticent, closed off from Draco as he gazed up at him.

His eyes searched Draco’s, once again trying to convey something to him that he had no idea of what was trying to be wordlessly said.

”Harry,” Draco whispered, reaching up and cupping his jaw. His let his thumb linger against the curve of Harry’s lips, watching him visibly swallow. “What are you trying to tell—“

Harry grabbed his arm and yanked him down, impaling him on his hard cock.

” _Ah_!” Draco cried out, trying to adjust to the sudden intrusion. 

“Let me hear you, Draco,” Harry rasped between thrusts, “tell me how much you _hate_ it while while you moan and writhe on my prick like some _cockslut_.”

Harry bounced Draco on his cock, groaning each time he would bottom out. He gripped Draco’s hips, supporting him. 

“Look at you, pregnant and lactating. It makes me hard to know that it was _me_ who made your body change like this, pet.”

Draco tipped his head back, keening at the feeling of Harry’s cock ramming against that euphoric spot inside of him.

”H-Harry, I’m gonna...” he let out a high-pitched moan when Harry’s fingers circled the back of his upper thighs, his fingertips spreading his cleft open almost painfully wide.

”If only you could see yourself as I do, Draco. Spread open and riding my cock, greedily sucking me in like you can’t get enough.”

Harry punctuated his statement with a slam of his hips, making Draco whine low in his throat.

”Then you’d see,” Harry hissed gratingly. “You’d see how much you _want_ this, how much you want _me_ —“

Draco wailed shrilly, coming suddenly from Harry’s cruel words. His cum coated both of their stomachs, the sticky liquid tacky between them as Harry continued brutalizing his hole at an unrelenting pace.

Draco could only sway dazedly, his fingers bunching Harry’s shirt to stay upright. 

“Tell me you love me,” Harry whispered, rough and almost inaudible to Draco’s ears.

Draco stared vacantly at the wall behind them, tears continuing to fall from his eyes. He didn’t meet Harry’s eyes before he whispered, “ _I love you_.”

The words felt brittle on his tongue, hollow and meaningless. It was as if he were being held together by rickety supports, the fastenings around his soul fraying and tenuous.

He felt—

Broken.

Harry came inside of him, moaning low, kissing up his breasts and throat. When their lips met, Draco lost himself in it. Harry’s cum, leaked from his hole, dripping down his thighs and reminding him that he was—

 _No_.

He didn’t want to think about who he was becoming anymore. He just wanted to forget about everything. 

So, he did.

**XXX**

They had sex too many times for Draco to count that night. Harry took him from the front each time, kissing him and kneading his breasts, making everything so tenderly— _awful_.

Harry always made sure Draco came first, even transferring his magic to their pup after each orgasm. 

It made him want to sob with gratefulness. It made him want to scream in anger. 

He wasn’t sure which was worse.

Even though Draco continued to spread his legs for his Alpha that night, in the back of his mind, there was a niggling feeling of _wrongness_.

After finally collapsing together in bed, he allowed himself to process.

Harry was sleeping soundly next to him, his arm curled protectively around the swell of Draco’s belly. Their pup bounced around in his stomach, blissfully unaware of what kind of person their father was.

Or what kind of person their mother was _becoming_. 

_His innocent jellybean_.

They deserved more than this. More than bleak captivity, more than Harry as a father, more than _Draco_ as a mother—

He narrowed his eyes in the suffocating darkness, resolve hardening the fragile edges of his heart.

He knew what he had to do.


	11. Remorseful Burden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, tw: angst, angst, and **angst**. Vague mention of suicidal thoughts, kinda?
> 
> I’m sorry. I’m an angst-ridden bitch. 😐

“I don’t know where else to go from here.”

Draco glanced up, eyeing the portrait of the young man with haunted eyes.

He didn’t have anyone to confide in and the portrait in the forbidden room provided him an outlet.

Sirius remained silent, that same taciturn look smoothing his features into one of indifference.

Draco loathed that look. He was tired of those inscrutable expressions. He would never give his pup that face, he would always be open and honest. Even if he didn’t want to be. 

Even if it hurt.

That was one promise he planned to keep.

“I know you were special to Harry, even if he refuses to tell me what happened to you. I also know that my family probably had something to do with your death.”

Draco sighed, turning over the envelope in his trembling hand. “I don’t know if I’ll see you again, Sirius. I wanted to come and tell you that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for whatever was done to you and I want you to know I would give my own life to undo it.”

The clock on the mantel in front of the portrait of Sirius wasn’t working, it’s hands forever frozen in place on the numerals they had stopped on. Draco felt a lot like the clock, hidden away in this room, hidden away in this _home_ , suspended in time.

Just like Sirius’ portrait.

He couldn’t do anything to bring back Sirius, but he _could_ do something for his unborn child.

Draco kept his eyes lowered, the large swell of his stomach preventing him from seeing his own feet. He was eight months pregnant now and only getting bigger with each passing day.

He sighed tiredly.

“I don’t know if I can forgive him for what he’s done to me, but I can’t help but wonder if…”

He paused, placing his free hand on the top of his stomach, sliding it down slowly over his covered belly.

“I’d give my own life to reverse what has been done to _Harry,”_ he whispered, his voice cracking on his name. He cleared his throat before speaking again. _“_ I can’t help but wonder if he would have been a different person.”

He let his thumb slide over the wax seal on the front of the envelope in his other hand, sorrow crushing his heart. His sorrow felt like a vise that only constricted around his heart even further the closer he got to the end of his pregnancy.

“And I’d give my own life to,” he swallowed thickly before saying, “free my mother. She was untruthful to me about her past, but I’m not angry with her. I’d forgive her a thousand times over if I could just see her again.”

He shifted on his feet, feeling silly for divulging his most secret thoughts to a barely sentient portrait of someone long gone.

But he couldn’t stop.

“Maybe she would have been better off if she never had me. Perhaps her life would have been…happier. I also can’t help but wonder, if I were _gone_ , would Harry let her be?”

“Self-sacrifice is often seen as heroic.”

Draco’s head snapped up, his gaze connecting with Sirius’ in the portrait. 

He stepped closer to the mantel, clutching the envelope to his chest. This close, he could see the filament cracks in the painting, a map work of aged veins that interspersed throughout Sirius’ dark eyes.

“But it is the man who lives that is the heroic one. Martyrdom to Muggles is like what _magic_ is to us, but no amount of magic in the world can bring someone back from death.”

Draco was stymied, frozen in place. He was unable to process that the portrait was actually _speaking_.

“Sirius?”

He knew the portrait only held the _likeness_ of a young Sirius, specific traits of the wizard whose circumstances of death were unknown to Draco.

“It also won’t rectify any problems left behind. To stay and face your fears, that is true bravery. For a person to _live_ , that is heroic.”

Sirius stopped talking for a moment, pinning Draco with his otherworldly, unnerving gaze.

“But for a person to _forgive_ , that is _godly_.”

Sirius looked away then, to a spot beyond Draco’s earthly vision, lapsing into silence.

Draco held up the sealed envelope in his hand, tears welling in his eyes. He was so tired of crying, so tired of feeling hopeless, feeling like he couldn’t control _anything_ —

He looked back up, studying Sirius’ profile in the portrait.

“Thank you, Sirius,” he whispered, the room once again achingly quiet.

**XXX**

“You must be getting excited, Draco. You’re almost at the end.”

Draco smiled at Hermione. They were seated in the kitchen, having tea. The envelope in his trouser pocket felt as if it were burning a hole through the material.

“I am excited. I can’t wait to see…my baby,” he said softly, a warm feeling unfurling inside of him at the thought of his jellybean in his arms.

”Have you thought of any names?”

Draco shook his head, smiling shyly. “A few, but nothing I’m set on.”

Hermione nodded. “Perhaps a family name? Maybe you could use Harry’s parents’ names. His mother’s name was so pretty.”

Draco stared at her, feeling inexplicably _sad_ for not knowing such a simple thing about about his mate.

He realized that there was still so much he didn’t know about Harry.   
  
He suddenly wanted to barrage Hermione with questions, but held back. 

“What...what was Harry’s mother’s name?”

“He didn’t tell you?” Hermione asked. “Well, I suppose it’s a tough thing for him to talk about. Her name was Lily and his father’s name was James.”

”Lily,” Draco repeated. “That is pretty.”

Hermione smiled and nodded.

“I’m sure Harry’s excited about the arrival of your pup, too. Before Rose was born, Ron was so anxious. He didn’t think he would be a good father. Of course, we never thought we would have a child before I became pregnant. We tried for so many years and it never happened. Ron was becoming distant and I felt inadequate as an Omega. Ron didn’t blame me of course, but it was just something we wanted so badly that it began to cloud our minds with negativity when it didn’t happen right away.”

She took a sip of her tea, her umber eyes wistful.

“But then I became pregnant with Rose and everything changed. The first time Ron held her, well, he was smitten. You’d be surprised how a child can change a person.”

Draco nodded, his fingers tightening around his cup.

Deep down, he still foolishly held hope that Harry would change. In the beginning, he deluded himself into thinking that when their pup was born, Harry would become a changed man.

It was different now.

He couldn’t _change_ Harry and he couldn’t _save_ him, either. Maybe that was the hardest thing to accept. Even though Harry was his mate and the father of their pup, he now knew the truth.

The hope he still held for Harry was nothing more than dregs now, like the remnants of the tea leaves at the bottom of his cup.

And they were soon to dissipate completely.

“But anyway,” Hermione cleared her throat, setting down her cup. “I brought you a present, Draco.”

Draco looked up, arching a brow. “A present? For the baby?”

Hermione’s smile faltered. “No, Draco, for your birthday. It’s your birthday today, don’t you know?”

Draco stared at her for a moment before quickly concealing his surprise. He chuckled softly.

“Oh, my birthday, of course. It must have slipped my mind. The further along I am, the more forgetful I am. I’m sorry, Hermione.”

Hermione’s keen gaze sharpened. “It’s all right, Draco. You don’t need to apologize so much. You have nothing to be sorry for. Forgetfulness isn’t a crime.”

 _But I_ am _sorry, Hermione. I’m sorry for what I’m about to ask you to do. I’m sorry for putting you in the middle of this. I’m sorry that you ever knew me._

Hermione reached down, grabbing a small, gift-wrapped box from her bag and setting it on the table in front of him. “I hope you don’t mind. I asked Harry when it was so that I could surprise you.”

Draco sat up straighter. “It’s all right, Hermione. I don’t mind at all.”

She grinned and pushed the present towards him. “Go on, then. Don’t make me beg. Open it up.”

Draco felt numb as he slowly ripped open the yellow wrapping paper. He opened the small box revealed under the paper with stiff fingers, going silent upon seeing what was inside. He reached in and lifted it up.

“I had to do a bit of digging, but I was able to find it. I even got the help of the headmistress of Hogwarts. She used to be my professor, so it was fairly easy. I hope you don’t mind, I just thought…you’d want something to remember them.”

The moving photograph pinched between Draco’s fingers struck him mute.

“They were sorted into the same house, you see. This photo was taken when they were in a club together. For Herbology, I believe. It seems Narcissa had a fondness for plants. Well, I’m sure you already knew that.”

It was a picture of his parents.

His mother looked to be around his age. Her blonde hair was long, curling softly around her shoulders. She was wearing her school uniform, a potted plant tucked under one of her arms. She was smiling up at…

His father. Lucius.

His mother never allowed him to see any pictures of him growing up, but he could see the resemblance in himself.

Some features were similar and some different. His father’s short white-blond hair was the same as his, but Lucius had an aquiline nose rather than a pert one like Draco had inherited from his mother. His eyes were the same shape and color as his father’s, but that was where the similarities ended.

The man next to his mother was virtual stranger to Draco.

His mother looked enamored, the obvious affection in her eyes something unfamiliar to him. It was surreal to see his mother in the photo, in a life before having him. She looked happy and young.

When had she become a _lost soul_? Had his father pushed her into it? Did she blame him for how things were now?

There were so many questions that would remain unanswered for him.

Hermione reached across the table, gently placing her hand on his forearm. “Oh, I haven’t overstepped, have I, Draco?”

“No,” Draco whispered. “It’s lovely, Hermione. I’ll treasure it always. Thank you.”

A small nudge against his stomach from his pup reminded him of why he had wanted to sit down with Hermione. Harry had gone to the Ministry that day for some unknown reason and Hermione had stopped by to keep him company.

Draco didn’t want to waste any more time.

He quickly turned the photo over on the table, clearing his throat.

“I wanted to ask something of you.”

Hermione raised her brows and nodded. “Anything, Draco.”

“Well, it’s a bit of a sore spot for Harry, but—”

He pulled the envelope from his pocket and slid it across the table until it rested in front of Hermione.

“I wondered if you could get a letter to my mother in Azkaban. I just want her to know that I’m not angry with her and that I love her.”

“Oh…” Hermione picked up the envelope, her eyes softening as she looked down at it. “To get a letter to Azkaban, Draco, I don’t know if—”

“Please, Hermione,” Draco begged. “She is my mother. I want her to know that I love her and that I’m doing okay. That’s all, nothing more.”

Hermione went quiet, staring at the envelope in her hands. A few tense minutes passed before she looked up and nodded resolutely.

“I can do this for you, Draco, but Harry can’t know.”

Draco’s heart leapt, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude overtaking him for the kind witch seated across from him.

Draco beamed at her. “Thank you, Hermione!”

He got to his feet, steadying himself with a hand on the table before walking around it. Hermione quickly stood, pulling him into her warm embrace.

“You’re welcome, Draco. Happy birthday,” she said softly, tightening her arms around him.

Draco held onto her longer than necessary, inhaling her unique scent. He didn’t know if he would ever see her again, so he basked in the now.

**XXX**

After Hermione left, Draco went to the drawing room.

He was restless, pacing in front of the sofa.

For the past few days, he had been experiencing twinges of pain in his lower back. It was steadily worsening, the twinges turning into _jabbing_.

Arlen had told him what to expect with contractions and he was almost sure what he was experiencing was Braxton Hicks. False labor pains, Arlen had said. They were common in the third trimester, so Draco hadn’t told Harry about it.

He was loathed to admit it, but sex with Harry helped the pain. The night before, _he_ had been the one to initiate, begging Harry to make love to him.

When Harry was inside of him, the twinging pain would momentarily abate. Harry had fucked him on his hands and knees, his burgeoning belly making it more and more difficult for Harry to take him from the front.

Remembering last night, how Harry had curled an arm around his stomach, supporting him as he pounded into him from behind. Needy whimpers had escaped him with each thrust, his head turned to welcome Harry’s lips against his own—

Another sharp jab to his lower back had him hissing in a breath.

Walking was currently helping, so he kept pacing, his thoughts shifting to the letter he had given Hermione.

Draco felt an overwhelming need to go upstairs and get somewhere warm. Somewhere soft and _safe_. He felt flushed, perspiration gathering on the nape of his neck.

With the letter on the way to his mother, his plans shifted to escape.

He knew that it was a risk, what with him being heavily pregnant, but he didn’t want to wait anymore. His mother would understand. He explained everything in the letter. This was the only way his pup could have a future. The only way that they _both_ could have a future.

Sirius was right.

He had to _live_ , he had to fight, or at least _try_.

For his baby.

If he successfully escaped, he could try to find a way to free his mother from Azkaban.

It all sounded so impossible, but he had to at least _try_.

He would wait until Harry was asleep. It seemed like the only time his Alpha’s guard was down. If he could just make it down the stairs, he could use his long-dormant magic, he could—

He bumped into something hard mid-step, almost falling backwards in surprise. Strong fingers wrapped around his upper arms, steadying him and keeping him upright.

“Draco.”

He looked up, his eyes connecting with Harry’s.

“Harry,” he breathed, feeling inexplicably _relieved_.

Harry was dressed almost entirely in black, his raven hair roguishly mussed in the way that Draco loved—

He cut off that train of thought before it could finish.

“What’s wrong? You look…troubled.”

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but another sharp pain in his back made him grimace.

Harry pinched Draco’s chin between his fingers, tipping his head up. “What is it?”

Draco’s knees felt weak, the pain in his back making it hard for him to remain upright. He inhaled Harry’s scent, his eyes closing as the scent of his _Alpha_ calmed him.

He realized that if he was able to escape tonight, he wouldn’t see his Alpha again.

Although their bond was forced and Harry was his _tormentor_ , he was also the father of his pup. Without his Alpha’s magic and scent, he knew his delivery would be difficult. He hoped he could be as strong as his mother had been when she had him, but—

“Will you hold me, Harry?”

The question fell from his lips, unbidden.

Harry arched a brow, his expression giving nothing away. “Hold you? Are you ill, pet?”

Draco nodded, averting his gaze. “I just…I’m not feeling that great. Will you hold me and transfer your magic? _Please_?”

It might be the last time he would be able to.

Harry was quiet for a few tense moments before tugging Draco towards the sofa. He sat down, pulling Draco on top of his lap, facing away from him. He placed his large hands on both sides of Draco’s stomach beneath his jumper, gently kneading.

Draco arched his back, a moan almost slipping past his lips.

“So responsive,” Harry murmured, his magic flowing from his palms and suffusing Draco’s stomach tingling warmth.

Their pup woke up, shifting restlessly within him at their Alpha’s touch. The pain in his lower back slowly waned, replaced by his Alpha’s euphoric magic.

“Lower,” Draco said throatily, biting his lip as Harry’s skilled hands slid incrementally down.

“You had a busy day. Did you enjoy your visit with Hermione, pet?” Harry asked, his deft hands lulling Draco into dazed state of contentment.

Draco nodded, his lids drifting closed.

“What did you two discuss?”

Harry slid his hands upwards, just beneath his aching breasts. He raised his thumbs, pressing them down into the tender flesh beneath his swollen nipples.

Draco sucked in a sharp breath. “N-nothing, Harry. Just—Just about the baby.”

“Oh? You didn’t discuss your birthday?”

Harry let the rough pads of his thumbs rub across Draco’s pebbled nipples, making him whimper.

Draco shook his head. “ _Briefly_ , but n-nothing else, Harry.”

Harry leaned forward, his lips pressing against Draco’s ear before he whispered, “Do you think I’m a _fool_?”

Draco froze, his eyes snapping open. “W-what?”

Harry’s grip on his breasts became painful, his fingertips biting into his sensitive skin. “Do you think I’m an idiot, Draco? Do you think I’m not listening and watching you at _all_ times? Your rudimentary muffling spell was almost laughable. Your mother’s home schooling was seriously lacking, pet.”

Fear skittered up Draco’s spine, his body stiffening under Harry’s rough hands. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Harry scoffed. “Please, Draco. Let’s not waste time with your theatrics, shall we? A skilled liar, you are not, pet. I think that’s what I like most about you—your _honesty_.”

Harry spat the last word, accusation clear in his tone.

Draco raised his hands, wrapping his fingers around Harry’s wrists. “Please, Harry, I didn’t—"

Harry stood, yanking Draco up with him by his wrist. He grabbed his other wrist, pulling him close until his belly was pressed uncomfortably tight between them.

“So, what was the plan, pet? I’d really love to hear it. Would you seduce me into fucking you tonight and when I was finally asleep, bash me over the head with an object, like you tried to do when we first met?”

Draco shook his head, tears brimming his eyes. “I-I just want to get away from you! I can’t do this anymore, Harry!”

Harry smiled, but it was brittle. “When will you realize that there is no escape, Draco? Wherever you will go, I will find you. You are _mine_ and the child you carry will always bind you to me. We are forever entwined, no matter how much you want to deny it.”

Draco glared up at him, hatred seething in his gut. “I don’t care! I won’t stay here and be _tormented_ because you can’t get over the past. Maybe my family did hurt you, but I wasn’t even _born_ then! You can’t keep taking it out on me, Harry!”

Something shifted in Harry’s eyes, that infuriating shield quickly erected before he could decipher whatever it was.

“Maybe you’re right, Draco, but do tell me what you were planning to do with _this_.” Harry released one of his wrists and flicked his fingers, the envelope he had given Hermione appearing between them.

”The wards on my home don’t allow anything in without my approval, but they also don’t allow anything _out_ without my approval. It was pulled from her bag before she left, Draco. Kreacher brought it to me.”

Draco warily eyed the envelope, dread settling low in his stomach. “I-I just wanted to tell my mother that I don’t blame her for what’s happened. I wanted to tell her that I love her.”

“That you _love_ her?” Harry said in a mocking tone, his eyes narrowed. “And what of me, Draco? Would you admit to your mother that you allow me between your thighs each night, begging for more while you whisper that you _love_ me, too?”

“I was _lying_!” Draco shouted, trying to pull away from him. “I’d say anything to survive another _day_ with you and I’d _do_ anything for my baby!”

Harry went completely still, his jaw hardening. Draco had seen Harry when he was mad, and this…this was something entirely different.

He looked… _decided_.

His emerald eyes were devoid of all emotion, a cruel smirk turning up his lips.

“Well,” he said coldly. “If everything that’s happened between us has been nothing but a _ruse_ on your part, I have no reason not to pay your precious mother a visit at Azkaban.”

Draco stopped struggling, shooting Harry a shocked look. “W-what? Y-you said if I was good, you wouldn’t—

“But you haven’t been, pet. You lied to me about your discussion with Hermione. I gave you a chance to be honest and you _lied_.”

Draco stepped closer to Harry, panic welling within him. “Please, Harry, you promised—”

“ _Promised_?” he hissed, releasing Draco’s wrist as if disgusted. “You bring up promises to _me_? You were the one who _promised_ me you would be good, but it seems like I made a mistake in trusting you enough to remove your collar.”

Draco felt sick, the jabbing pain in his back coming back with a vengeance. His knees gave out, falling to them before Harry. He reached up, grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt.

“You can’t hurt her, Harry, _please_. I’ll be good, I’ll stay with you. Just don’t _hurt_ her!”

He didn’t care if he sounded desperate, he just wanted Harry to _stop_.

He wanted it _all_ to stop.

Harry stared down at him and for a moment, he almost thought Harry looked _sad_ , but that couldn’t be. 

Harry was incapable of feeling sad. He was incapable of feeling _anything_.

Harry reached down, burrowing his fingers into Draco’s hair, gripping tight. He knelt, putting himself at eye-level with Draco.

“You are nothing but a _burden_ , Draco. Resign yourself to the fact that no one will ever _want_ you as I do and no one will ever _love_ you as I do.”

Tears spilled down Draco’s cheeks, sharp pains lancing his lower stomach in excruciating waves.

“I wish I had never met you,” he whispered, hatred lacing his words.

Harry tilted Draco’s head back by his hair, leaning forward until their lips were almost touching.

“And I wish our families’ fates had never crossed. Maybe things could have been different for us, but fate is hardly ever _fair_ , is it, Draco?”

Harry crushed his mouth to Draco’s, ignoring his futile attempts to push away from him with his hands. Draco’s tears flavored their kiss, a familiar, sickening arousal flaring to life within him when Harry’s tongue met his.

He was beginning to realize that their bond was formed through heartache and pain, and Draco had become conditioned to respond to Harry’s cruel treatment.

Maybe he _was_ truly broken.

Harry pulled back; his pupils dilated so much his eyes appeared fully black. “This is the way it must be.”

Harry stood, stepping away from Draco.

Draco cradled his stomach with one arm, using his other arm to hold himself up from the floor. His entire body _ached_ , his heart beating wildly against his rib cage.

He attempted to bring his magic to the surface, but it quickly fizzled out as another wave of cramping pain seized him, disarming him completely.

“I’ll deliver your letter to your mother, Draco. I’ll make sure she knows _everything_ about what’s happened between us. Consider it a birthday present for your _good_ behavior.”

Without another word, Harry pivoted on heel and disappeared into the Floo. Draco watched as the emerald flames enveloped him, sealing his mother’s fate with an extinguishing snap that seemed to reverberate throughout his _soul_.

Draco doubled over, pressing his clammy forehead to the floor. The tightening pain in his stomach intensified to an almost unbearable degree.

And for the first time in eight months, he let loose a scream that he felt he’d been holding in since his capture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to say that I read every kind and encouraging comment on my last chapter. Thank you all for your uplifting words. 🖤 
> 
> The end is near for this fic. I have at least two or three more chapters I have planned.
> 
> (I know I took some liberties with how portraits can interact, but then again, Sirius _was_ a powerful wizard.)


	12. Maternal Burden

“You’re sure that the Minister approved this visit?”

Harry glared down at the fidgeting Auror.

Ever since Kingsley had abolished Dementors from guarding Azkaban, the Aurors he’d assigned for watch duty at prison were specially chosen based upon their experience and skills. The decision had been voted on in the Wizengamot, but several people _had_ objected to the ruling.

Kingsley hadn’t done himself any favors by introducing the new breeding law and his reformation decisions were beginning to tally up against him.

Eventually, he would be voted out of his position and it was only a matter of time.

Harry didn’t concern himself with Wizarding politics anymore since he had retired from the Ministry, but it was entertaining to watch Kingsley fall from favor.

“Are you insinuating that I came here _without_ approval from the Minister, Auror…?”

The Auror straightened, his cheeks flushing. “Auror Thorne, Mr. Potter. It’s an honor to finally meet you.”

Harry pasted on a congenial smile. “You flatter me, Auror Thorne. Could you please take me to Narcissa Malfoy’s cell? There’s a few additional questions that Minister Shacklebolt has sent me to ask her. Time is of the utmost importance.”

“Of course, Mr. Potter. Follow me.”

Harry trailed behind the young man, his faux smile slipping from his lips.

While the guards of Azkaban had changed, the conditions hadn’t improved that much.

He’d escorted a few prisoners to Azkaban during his Auror days, and the interior of the prison remained unchanged.

The bleak atmosphere and dank, echoing corridors was accompanied by the sound of the howling winds outside. The sound of the crashing waves against the stone walls of the magically enforced fortress was surely eroding the prisoners’ minds as sure as the cliff faces the prison was built on.

Enchanted wall sconces lit their way down the cavernous corridor, the sound of incoherent babbling and ominous groans filtering through the thick cell doors they passed.

Harry felt… _unhinged_.

The sound of Draco’s pained cries echoed in his mind, slowly pulling at the already fragile seams of his unraveling sanity.

_Your Omega needs you, needs your protection._

_Your unborn_ pup _needs you, needs their Alpha._

What are you doing, Harry?

_Shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up._

When this was all over, he would go see a mind healer. He could—

It won’t fix what you’ve **done**.

 _He’ll never forgive you_.

His own admission to himself hung heavy in his mind, like a brand upon his _soul_.

Ever since he had gained ownership of Draco, his usual calm thoughts had turned chaotic.

Every time he was cruel to Draco, it was going against his nature as an Alpha. He was meant to protect and adore his Omega, not abuse and berate him. The only times he could get his mind to quiet was when he was _inside_ of Draco.

It was the only time he felt _right_.

Seeing Draco so upset and discomfited by Harry’s own callous behavior was beginning to erode his _own_ mind.

While his mind was set on revenge, his heart was a different thing entirely.

Though it seemed sacrilegious to his dead friends and family, he was in _love_ with Draco Malfoy.

And how it _burned_ him to admit that to himself.

But he couldn’t deny it any longer. He was in love with his Omega, his captive, his _retribution_.

He had asked Draco if he thought him a fool, but he was really asking _himself_ that question. Because deep down, he _knew_ he was a fool.

He had fallen in love with Draco.

He didn’t know if it happened in between his torture of the boy, in the tender moments that he would never allow himself to think about when he was alone.

The moments when Draco would unconsciously seek him out during sleep, or when Harry found himself studying the boy’s lovely features when he was unaware.

Or maybe it was when he realized that Draco loved their pup unconditionally. Even if it was fathered by a man who was ceaselessly cruel to him.

When he became aware of his own twisted feelings, he knew he had to choose.

It was either his revenge or Draco.

Thinking about Sirius, Albus, Remus, and his _parents_ —he knew what he had already chosen.

With Draco planning an escape, he knew he had to show the boy that he wasn’t _weak_. Threatening the boy’s mother seemed to be the only thing that got through to him, so he would do what he must.

Even if it meant sealing Draco’s hate for him. In the end, he had to remind himself what he had started this all for.

His loved ones.

“It’s right here, Mr. Potter. She was put on suicide watch a couple of times, so we had her moved to a cell closer to the guards’ station.”

They had stopped in front of a cell door, no different than the rest.

Harry readied himself, drawing upon his hatred to steel himself for whatever tactics clever Narcissa would undoubtedly use to trick him.

Auror Thorne brandished his wand, using it to unlock the reinforced door. It slid open with a heavy groan.

“Auror Thorne, could you leave us alone for a couple of minutes? The questions I must ask are questions that Minister Shacklebolt would like to remain unheard by others not currently cooperating in the investigation.”

Auror Thorne gave a quick nod. “Sure thing, Mr. Potter. Just tap on the door three times with your wand and I’ll come to let you out.”

Harry gave him another indulgent smile and walked into the cell.

The door shut behind him, locking him in.

The cell was just as depressing as the rest of the prison. The only light within was moonlight that spilled in through a narrow window too high up for a prisoner to reach. Even if they were able to reach it by some unknown feat, it was only two inches thick in width and height. Nothing was escaping through that window but sound and the desperate hopes of the prisoner housed within.

“Narcissa.”

In a darkened corner of the cell, Narcissa sat. She was curled up, her thin wrists and ankles magically manacled. Her hair was fully white now, snarled and dirty. Her threadbare uniform hung on her now gaunt frame, her skin ashen. Slowly, she lifted her head up from her bent knees, her blue eyes cold and empty.

“What do _you_ want?” she hissed, her voice hoarse from disuse.

Harry leaned against the wall next to the cell door, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve come with the intent of relaying good news.”

Narcissa laughed, hollow and rough, like dry kindling over dying embers.

“Good news? Ever since your existence was made known to me, it has been nothing but bad news for me and my family, Potter.”

Harry smirked. “So you don’t want to know what has become of your son after your capture?”

Narcissa’s eyed widened, her shoulders loosening. “Draco? What about Draco?” she visibly swallowed, her cracked lips parting on a shaky exhale, “is he…all right?”

Harry straightened from his relaxed posture against the wall. He walked over to Narcissa and got to his haunches in front of her.

“He’s fine, Narcissa. Actually, he’s better than fine.” Harry paused to watch Narcissa’s eyes become alight with relief, relishing in her false hope before he spoke again. “He’s pregnant, Narcissa. Eight months along.”

Narcissa shifted, confusion now evident in her eyes. “P-pregnant? But he has no mate, he can’t be—“

“Pregnant,” Harry interjected. “By _me_.”

This was it.

The crescendo of his revenge, the apex that all of his carefully laid plans had been building up to.

Harry watched in avid fascination as Narcissa’s expression changed, morphing into horrified realization before hardening into infuriated acceptance. Her blue eyes became drained of all emotion, narrowing to slits.

“ _You_ ,” she spat. “You are a curse on my family. You are the reason we were split up, you are a _burden_ that I’ve had to live with for _years_.”

Harry scoffed, languidly getting to his feet. “Such things you accuse me of, Narcissa. You should take a look at yourself sometime. Everything that you have wrought, you have done it to yourself. You and _Lucius_.”

“I didn’t want it to come to this!” she shouted, glaring up at him with hatred now swirling in her eyes. “I wanted to take Draco and get _away_ from him! He was so set on following the Dark Lord’s orders that he failed to see what it was doing to his own _family_!”

Harry’s self-assurance wavered slightly. “You’re _lying_. You ran away because Lucius _sent_ you away. You lived in that idyllic town, not a care in the world for the crimes you had committed. You’re only saying these things because you were _caught_.”

Narcissa shook her head, her red eyes glassy.

“I wanted to protect my baby from Lucius. Don’t you see? I live with what I have done _every day_. I didn’t want Draco to live with the same regrets!”

Harry knelt, grabbing Narcissa by her upper arms and jerking her up to her feet.

“How dare you feign concern for your child when my mother didn’t even get a _chance_ to raise me. You had a life with Draco. You were able to watch him grow up, watch him _live_. My mother was not afforded the same luxury, Narcissa.”

Tears slipped down Narcissa’s dirt-smudged cheeks, her manacled hands shaking. “Then look into my memories. You will see that you are _wrong_ , Potter. You have never been more wrong and you will regret what you have done to my son.”

Something inside of him was screaming _not_ to look, not to sift through this woman’s memories.

But he had to _know_.

Harry released her arms and cupped her face between his hands, focusing on the dilated pupils of her blue eyes.

It took a skilled witch or wizard to use _Legilimency_ without a wand, but Harry was no novice.

Narcissa’s pupils burst at the edges, becoming an obsidian vortex that sucked Harry in and covered his own vision in a miasma of suffocating black. The black slowly bled into flashing colors: gray, white, and then the colors slowly took shape.

Narcissa was—

At Malfoy Manor.

_He’s going to stay awake all night again._

_Why can’t he just come to bed?_

_He’s losing it.  
_

_He’s losing_ himself _and there’s nothing I can do to help him._

 _Narcissa rested a palm on her swollen stomach, worry over her husband gnawing at her. Her due date was quickly approaching and she needed to make a decision. The Dark Lord’s plans were coming to a head and the time was near._

_She walked into the dining area, spotting her husband slouched over their long dining room table. Moonlight cast an ethereal glow to the large room, reflecting off of all of their polished silver. She had once found this room beautiful, but now it was only used as a base of operations by her husband and the other Death Eaters._

_She’d come to loathe it._

_Lucius looked haggard, his usual pristine appearance now rough and unfamiliar to her._

_It made her sad._

_“Lucius.”_

_Lucius barely reacted, his eyes on the parchment scattered across the tabletop. He had developed tremors in his hands as of late and Narcissa knew that it was an effect of the Dark Lord’s influence._

_She placed her own hand atop his, stilling it. “It’s late, dearest. Why don’t you come to bed?”_

_Lucius shook his head, pulling his hand away from hers. “Can’t, Cissa. I need to finish this for him. If I don’t, he’ll Crucio me again.”_

_Narcissa felt her heart tighten. “Lucius, it’s been three days since you last transferred your magic. The baby will weaken without it.”_

_Lucius shook his head again, his gray eyes haunted. “You don’t understand, Cissa. I can’t transfer magic. I must conserve everything for the Dark Lord’s plans. There is nothing more important.”_

_“More important than us, Lucius?” she asked hollowly._

_Lucius nodded, not looking up at her. “Yes, yes. It will be fine. You’ll see.”_

_She felt as if her world stopped revolving in that moment, the man before her someone who she no longer recognized._

_There was nothing left._

_“Lucius, do you even understand what you’re saying? Our pup is almost here, and you’re so consumed with hatred that you cannot discern between the Dark Lord and your family.”_

_Lucius’ hands were shaking again, a sliver of the Dark Mark visible beneath the sleeve of his robes. “You’ll see, Cissa. They’ll all see. He will finally set things right in the Wizarding World.”_

_Narcissa backed away, her hands around her stomach._

_She knew that Lucius wouldn’t stray from the path he was on. Hatred was driving his decisions now and not even the love he had for his family could deter him._

_She turned and fled from the room, her footsteps echoing against the empty corridors of the manor._

_She had to get away. She had to take her baby somewhere safe, somewhere away from the influence of the Dark Lord and Lucius. She wouldn’t let her child be raised by a father so consumed by hatred he didn’t see things for how are they were. Escape was vital._

_There was no other way._

Harry felt askew in her memories, the sound of his quickening heartbeat deafening as he tried to pull himself out of Narcissa’s mind.

Memories blocked his way out.

Thump, thump, _thump_.

_Draco as an infant, small with a shrill cry that had Narcissa grinning with relief. Her baby survived! There was hope yet—_

Enough.

_Draco as a small child._

_He looks so much like his father. Sometimes looking at him hurt her, his gray eyes so like Lucius’. If only he could have seen things for what they were. If only—_

Stop.

 _Draco by the ocean, his blond hair gilded with sunlight and his full lips pulled up into a smile._

Had he ever smiled for Harry like that? He couldn’t remember. All of the sudden, he _yearned_ to make him smile like that. Yearned to be the reason behind it. Draco was so _beautiful_ , his Draco, his—

 _Draco, Draco, Draco_.

Memories bombarded him from all sides, Narcissa mercilessly inundating his eroding mind with images of Draco growing up.

Each memory seemed to snap an already fraying thread that held his mind together.

 _He’ll never forgive you_.

He had always been innocent, he had never hurt anyone, he didn’t feel hatred like Harry did and he felt—

He was drowning.

Drowning in the maelstrom of his own self-hatred and bitter revenge while Narcissa’s memories showed him just how _wrong_ he was. 

Was it worth it?

 _He’ll never forgive you_.

 _Enough_!

He wanted _out_.

Navigating through memories was extremely difficult. He had to get out of Narcissa’s memories and the only way to do it was—

Through his own.

He latched onto his most recent memory, but it was slippery. His own memories were guarded, almost impenetrable due to his own refusal to allow other people _in_.

But then, he was—

 _Inside_ of Draco, on one of the many nights they had made love. He saw himself from the outside. The reverent way he was gazing down at the boy with undisguised—

He quickly pushed to another one of his memories.

It was—

One of the nights he was calming Draco from a nightmare, smoothing his blond hair back as he whispered assurances and soothing words. He had never allowed himself to be so open with another person, so _exposed_ and when he watched himself cup Draco’s belly with his other hand, he saw something in his eyes that—

He was on the precipice of madness. He didn’t want to see anymore. 

_Please. Let me out, let me_ —

The memory of their pup’s first ultrasound.

Draco sat on the sofa, his top pulled up to expose his pale, rounded stomach. He looked so _vulnerable_ , so worried. Harry watched himself standing over him, remembering how he wanted to gather the boy into his arms and reassure him that he was _there_. He had wanted to tell Draco he wasn’t alone, his Alpha was there and he would protect him no matter the outcome, but—

His own need for revenge had held him back.

As Harry watched the memory play out, he _hated_ himself. He hadn’t reassured Draco, he’d only taunted him and threatened to withhold his magic. 

An insidious, hated voice whispered over the memory, loud and clear:

 _You are a fool_.

He realized it was his _own_ voice.

The _pain_ on Draco’s face was too visceral, too much for Harry to bear.

He wanted _out_ of this memory, away from the horrible man who he knew was _himself_.

The most recent memory in Harry’s mind was of Draco on the floor in front of him. He saw himself, a cruel smile on his face as he held Draco’s head up by his hair.

” _You are nothing but a burden, Draco_.”

That wasn’t true! He had been _lying_.

He silently roared, beating at the memory with his fists, wanting to return to that moment and tell Draco—

Make it stop.

 _He’ll never forgive you_.

His own memories assailed him like serrated teeth, catching on the unraveling seams of his mind and tearing them asunder with unrepentant brutality.

Each memory was like a nail in his coffin that his hatred had built. 

He should have realized.

He should have known that the fire of hatred was never stoked with good intentions or self-awareness. It was stoked with bloodied hands belonging to a person so blinded to their own ignorance that they didn’t care what happened to the person being burned.

In the end, both parties were consumed by the flames.

There was no winner. No good ending. No forgiveness.

“ _What have I ever done to you, Harry?_ ”

 _Please_.

Using all of the power his magic held, he forcibly ripped himself out of his own memories. 

Harry’s vision returned to normal, the cell at Azkaban slowly filtering in around him.

Narcissa was on her knees before him, rivulets of tears flowing in continuous streams down her face. She was clutching two handfuls of his shirt, her expression desperate.

”Lucius couldn’t put aside his hatred to see what was _right_ in front of him!”

She let out a strained hiccup, her fingers tightening in his shirt.

“Please don’t hurt him, Harry. He is a _good_ boy. He’s never hurt anyone. If you must kill me, so be it, but don’t take out your anger on Draco. He’s done nothing to deserve it. Please don’t hurt…my grandchild.”

Harry felt sick. He wanted to vomit.

Seeing Narcissa on her knees, begging for the life of her child should have brought him immense satisfaction.

It didn’t.

His revenge had come to fruition, but it tasted bitter on his tongue. Like a foul tasting potion that he had to choke down in order to achieve the desired effect.

It should have brought him a feeling of triumph, of _completion_ , but all he felt in that moment was...

 _Regret_.

Staring down at Narcissa, all he could see was _Draco_. 

Draco begging for the life of his mother, begging for the safety of their pup, begging for Harry to see things as they really _were_.

The thoughts and emotions he’d been repressing over the past eight months were pouring out now, a sliver torn in his heart by Narcissa’s memories. 

His revenge was still a barely stoked ember inside of his heart, but for the life of him, he couldn’t incite it.

Maybe it would always remain there, silently burning somewhere deep within his soul.

There was something that had weakened it, though.

The past eight months he’d been fighting what he was feeling, and now…

All he wanted was…

 _Draco_.

Maybe that was all he would ever want.

He knelt and helped Narcissa to her feet. She gave him a guarded, quizzical look, shrinking back in fear.

Without speaking, he took out his wand and cast a barrier spell in front of her cell door. He aimed his wand at her manacles, and one by one, he unlocked them.

Narcissa shook out her wrists and legs, still looking at him warily. “What are you doing, Harry?”

“You won’t have much time.” Harry took Narcissa’s hand within his own, pressing his wand into her quaking palm. He forced her fingers closed around it and stepped back.

“Your manacles had rendered you magically null. The island has an Anti-Apparation jinx on it. Without a wand, escape is almost impossible.”

Narcissa cast him a look of disbelief. “You’re aiding in my escape? Why would you—“

“Just _go_ , Narcissa,” he whispered harshly. “Just...go.”

Narcissa stared at him for several moments before raising his wand in her hand.

“ _Thank you_ ,” she said softly before disappearing completely.

Harry stepped back, his back hitting the hard wall. He slid down to a sitting position. He knew that the Ministry would flood the prison with Aurors when they discovered Narcissa missing.

He shifted and pulled a photograph from his trouser pocket. He had intended to show it to Narcissa, a last ‘ _fuck you_ ,’ but now _he_ was the one gazing at it.

It was of Draco.

Harry had hundreds of them at home, locked away in his desk.

He had used a disposable Muggle camera to take them. He had taken them all when Draco had been unaware. In this particular photo, Draco was noticeably pregnant. He had fallen asleep in Harry’s office on the sofa, his jumper tight against his rounded stomach.

He looked like an angel.

Harry let his thumb brush against the photo, over Draco’s stomach.

_Their pup._

He held the photo out in front of him, dangling it between his fingertips. The photo ignited at one corner, flames beginning to devour it whole. Draco’s angelic face disappeared from view as the fire consumed.

The charred remainders of the photo floated to the stone floor between his legs as he watched.

He thought of the last time he had seen Draco. On his knees, begging for his mother’s life. His lovely gray eyes filled with tears, a protective arm around his stomach.

Would that be his last memory of him?   
  
He thought of Narcissa’s memory of Draco by the ocean, smiling and _happy_.

He had never made Draco happy, only miserable.

And he would have to live with that. 

He _deserved_ to live with that.

There was nothing left to do but wait.


	13. Revealed Burden

Hermione Granger-Weasley stepped through the Floo of her home, shaking the excess powder from her riotous curls.

In her living room, stood the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Her husband, Ron Weasley, stood next to him. There were two other officials from the Ministry in her living room, their gazes guarded and their expressions somber.

All eyes swiveled to her.

“Ronald?” she asked. “Where’s Rose?”

“She’s with the neighbor, Mione. I thought it was best if she wasn’t home for this.”

“W-what’s going on? I came as soon as I could, but Draco’s condition still isn’t stable, and St Mungo’s told me—”

“It’s about Harry,” Ron said tonelessly.

Hermione stepped forward, hiking her bag up higher on her shoulder. “Harry? Did you find him? We’ve been trying to contact him all day! Kreacher alerted me to Draco’s premature labor and told us he didn’t know where Harry had gone.”

“Oh, we found him. He made a trip to Azkaban yesterday,” Kingsley said.

“Azkaban? What on Earth would Harry be doing at Azkaban?” Hermione queried.

“Mione,” Ron said softly. “There’s some things about Harry that we’ve been…unaware of over the past couple of months.”

Hermione raised a brow. “Unaware of? Ron, whatever this about, can it wait? Draco is at St Mungo’s and he needs us there. He needs _me_ there.”

Ron walked over to her, blocking her from view of the Minister and the other officials.

“Hermione,” he whispered, placing a comforting hand on her forearm. “Harry aided in Narcissa’s Malfoy’s escape yesterday. She’s gone.”

Hermione felt as if the floor beneath her feet shifted. “Y-you must be mistaken. Harry would never do something like that, he—”

“That’s not all, Mione,” Ron whispered, his eyes solemn. “When they questioned Harry at the Ministry, he confessed to…mistreating Draco.”

“ _Mistreating_?” Hermione breathed. “In what way, Ron?”

Ron sighed. “He said that Draco’s pregnancy was…forced. He admitted that it was rape, Mione. Apparently, he took Draco on as a mate because he wanted revenge for what Draco’s parents participated in during the war.”

Hermione let out an unsteady chuckle, a soft, insistent ringing noise within her ears. “Y-you’re wrong, Ron. You’re talking about _Harry_ ,” she lowered her voice, “ _our_ Harry.”

The pitying look in Ron’s dark eyes made Hermione feel sick, an unpleasant twinge in her stomach.

“I know how this must sound, Mione, but there’s…evidence. Along with Harry’s confession, Kreacher corroborated his story after Harry released him from his servitude to the Black family. Draco was not Harry’s mate; he was his prisoner.”

“How can that be, Ronald?” Hermione glared up at him, denial surging forth within in her. “I went to visit Draco regularly. He never seemed like…he was being held _captive_. He _loves_ Harry, he—he…” she trailed off.

Had she missed something? Had Draco ever behaved strangely around her when she was at Grimmauld Place? Had she been that _blind_?

_“I’m sorry about the way I’m acting, Hermione. It really is just hormones. I cry about everything these days.”_

Hermione hugged herself, feeling unbelievably _guilty_ all of the sudden.

Had his tears been because of… _Harry_?

No, there had to be _something_ else, something that was indicative of abuse.

Something that was so _obvious_ that it would have alerted Hermione to anything out of the ordinary when it came to Draco and their visits over the past few months.

Perhaps a subtle stiffening of his shoulders or looks that were weighed down with much more than she was able to decipher.

But…she was coming up blank.

And Harry, her best friend, her _brother_ , what signs had he shown?

He had become more reserved after graduation, always looking as if his mind was a million miles away.

Hermione had attributed his stoic behavior to growing older, she had never questioned if something was truly bothering him. The war had affected all of them and Hermione had thought that maybe Harry just wanted to lay the past to rest. She never would have thought that he still harbored such ill will towards the Malfoy family.

When the years continued to pass and he had never taken on a mate, Hermione had chalked it up to his inability to commit, but had it been something deeper?

Something more… _nefarious_?

To think that Harry had gone on with such _hatred_ in his heart, Hermione almost couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t stand to think of her best friend letting something like that eat away at him until there was nothing left of the boy from their childhood.

And _Draco_ …

Could he ever forgive her for being so naïve, so trusting, so _flippant_ during their visits when _he_ had been suffering in silence?

Tears pricked her eyes, a shuddering breath escaping her.

“I-I have to sit down, Ron,” she whispered hollowly, swaying on her feet.

“Of course, Mione,” Ron said softly, carefully leading her over to their sofa.

Hermione sat down with Ron, her bag slipping from her listless arm and to the floor by her feet.

She gazed blankly at the patterned rug beneath her heels, following the intricate octagonal design with her eyes. Ron had purchased it as a surprise for her on one of his business trips to Egypt as an Auror. Harry had been with him on the trip when he was still working for the Ministry…

Harry.

“What will become of him?” Hermione blurted, her eyes connecting with Kingsley’s.

Kingsley exchanged a glance with Ron before clearing his throat. “He’ll be tried,” he said gruffly. “He aided in the escape of a prisoner of Azkaban and he’s admitted to abusing his assigned Omega. We’ll question Draco Malfoy when he’s in a more stable condition and if he confirms Harry’s admission, he’ll be sentenced.”

Sentenced.

The word echoed throughout Hermione’s frazzled mind.

“And…what will become of Draco?” she asked softly.

“Well, if what Harry’s said is true, he’ll be released from St Mungo’s upon recovery and he’ll be free to do as he pleases. He’s now seventeen, legally an adult, so he needs no one to care for him. I thought that by releasing him into the care of Mr. Potter, he would be safe and cared for. It seems I might have been wrong about that,” Kingsley paused, his eyes hardening. “ _Terribly_ wrong.”

Hermione lowered her gaze back to the floor. “He’s been asking for him. Draco, I mean. He’s been asking for Harry. He hasn’t been that coherent in the last several hours, but all he’s asked for is Harry. It could be the drugs in his system, but…”

“Hermione,” Ron said softly. “It’s not your fault. It’s not Draco’s fault. It’s not anyone’s fault except Harry’s.”

But some of the blame had to lie with her, _right_? She hadn’t seen the signs and she hadn’t recognized the darkness in her own _best friend_.

She suddenly shot up from the sofa, her heart and mind on overdrive.

“I have to— _to_ —”

What _was_ she going to do?

Draco _needed_ her at St Mungo’s. She had only left his side because of Ron’s urgent message to come back home. He had seemed so small and defenseless in his hospital bed and she had already failed him as a friend by not noticing his silent cries for help over the past few months.

And _Harry_ , he would need someone by his side through this. If the Wizengamot found him guilty, he would be serving an unknown amount of time in Azkaban as punishment. Even if Harry was truly guilty of the heinous things he had admitted to, he was still Hermione’s friend. Years of friendship, trust, and love didn’t just _disappear_ overnight.

She needed to choose, and she didn’t know what would happen as a result.

For the first time in her life, Hermione didn’t have an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of you mentioned what Hermione would think of Harry’s behavior, so I included this chapter. 
> 
> Omg, guys. My laptop’s backlight crapped out, so I had to take it to Apple to have it repaired. The only downfall to that was that all of my Drarry drafts were open in Word documents on my computer. 💀 
> 
> Some poor Genius at Apple was probably reading them like: 👁👄👁
> 
> (And my brother telling them when I took it for repair: SHES WORRIED HER FANFICTION DRAFTS GOT DELETED.) 😐
> 
> Sorry for the delay in updates! 🖤🖤🖤


	14. Healing Burden

_Eight Years Later_

Draco dragged his potted fern from its spot on his small balcony. He had set it out so that it could get some indirect sunlight. It had been looking a bit droopy the past few days.

“Not much better, but looking a tad more perky,” Draco murmured, gently rubbing one of the fern’s leaves between his thumb and forefinger.

Truthfully, he didn’t have the proverbial green thumb that his mother had. Every plant he touched seemed to wilt and die within a few days, but he still persisted in trying to garden.

He had taken on a lot of hobbies over the years that he had been too afraid to try when he was younger.

Gardening, knitting, cooking, and writing to name a few.

A light breeze swept past, making him smile. It cooled the nape of his neck and rustled his sweat-dampened hair. He had cut it short a couple of years back, making it much easier to manage with his busy lifestyle.

He knelt, eyeing the stem of his fern. He hoped those pesky bugs hadn’t gotten to it in its short time outside.

“Mum!” a melodious voice called out from inside his apartment.

Draco looked up, glancing around his fern. “I’m out here, Jellybean.”

His daughter skipped out to the balcony, shooting Draco an inquisitive look.

She parted some of the fern’s leaves with her hands, her heart-shaped face framed by green. It made the flecks of gold in her emerald eyes more apparent, the sunlight gleaming off of her long raven hair. The faint freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks were also made more discernible by the sunlight, like scattered constellations on her olive skin.

“What are you doing?” she asked, eyeing him from above.

Draco smiled warmly up at her, pointing to the fern. “Checking on my friend.”

She snorted, her small nose wrinkling. “Only you would be weird enough to call your plant your _friend_ , Mum.”

“Mmm,” Draco hummed noncommittally. “Speaking of friends, did you have fun at the neighbor’s?”

She sighed loudly. “Yes, but Rowan’s mum said we have to stop fighting with each other or we won’t be allowed to hang out anymore.”

Draco shot her a withering look. “You haven’t been using your magic again, have you?”

His jellybean could be described as having…an _abrasive_ attitude. She didn’t like when things didn’t go her way and was often stubborn if she thought she was right about something.

It reminded Draco of…

“You know you have to be careful, Jellybean. We don’t want a repeat of the waterpark fiasco.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “That was, like, _one_ time, Mum. That stupid boy kept picking on me!”

“So, you use your _words_ , love. You don’t send a torrent of water shooting down on a helpless Muggle boy.”

His daughter pouted, her green eyes flashing with defiance. “I tried but he wasn’t _listening_!”

Draco inhaled deeply through his nostrils, trying to be patient with his eight-year-old whose budding magic was on the cusp of adolescence.

“I know, love, but you’ll have to learn that magic isn’t supposed to be abused. Magic is supposed to be used for _good_ , not getting useless revenge. The French Ministry warned me against allowing you to use your magic inappropriately again until you go to school. Once you’re there, you’ll learn how to control and hone it.”

His daughter’s eyes softened. “Okay, Mummy, I’m sorry. I promise I won’t fight with Rowan anymore and I won’t use magic for things I shouldn’t.”

Draco stood, brushing off the bits of dirt from the front of his shorts. “Come here, love.”

His daughter sulkily meandered over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burrowing her nose into his chest. Draco placed his hand on top of her head, smoothing down some of the flyaways from her dark hair.

“I love you, Jellybean,” he said softly.

She looked up at him, half of her face hidden in his shirt. “I love you, too, Mummy,” she mumbled.

Draco hugged her to him, placing his chin on top of her head. She was tall for her age, another thing she had inherited from—

“You got a letter. That scraggly owl was sitting on the railing in front of our building.”

Draco opened his eyes, his arms tightening around his heart. “A letter?”

His daughter nodded. “I put it on the kitchen table. Can I go to my room for a bit and read my comics?”

“Yes, you may, but don’t eat any sweets. I’m making dinner soon and I don’t want you to ruin your appetite.”

“Okay!” she chirped and skipped back into their apartment, disappearing down the hall.

Draco smirked, walking into his apartment and closing the sliding glass door behind him.

Sure enough, there was a plain brown envelope on their kitchen table. It looked rough, stained with some unknown substance and claw marks from the owl adorning the front.

He walked over and picked it up, opening it.

His breath hitched.

It was from Hermione.

 _Draco,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I wanted to write to see how you both were doing. It’s been three years since you last came to London for a visit. I miss you both so terribly! There’s so much I want to talk to you about, but I suppose you’ve already heard about Shacklebolt’s resignation from the Ministry, if you even keep up with Wizarding Britain’s politics anymore. It’s all so tedious that I admit I barely keep up with it, and Ronald works at the Ministry! (Ha.)_

_The reason I wrote you was because I wanted to ask if you could come visit us soon. Rose asks about you both constantly and I must admit I’ve become rather morose not being able to have our little chats in person like we used to. Did you get the flowers I sent for her birthday? I hope they arrived in one piece. I know you mentioned she loves carnations. The picture you sent of her last year made me cry! She is so beautiful, Draco. I miss you both so much._

_Oh, Draco, please forgive me for what I’m about to ask of you. I don’t want to dredge up bad memories for you, but the real reason I’m writing you is about ** ~~Harry~~**._

Draco lowered the letter, his heartbeat quickening. A cold sweat broke out over his skin, his fingers trembling around the letter.

_It’s just a letter. It’s just a name._

He repeated the mantra in his head until his heartrate had slowed back to a normal rhythm and his breathing evened out.

He went back to reading.

_As I’m sure you’re well aware, he was released from Azkaban a year ago. What you’re probably not aware of is that six months after he was released, he was sent to St Mungo’s due to multiple attempts to Obliviate himself._

Draco stopped reading for a moment, blinking rapidly as he realized that he had begun to cry. His tears fell to the parchment, smearing some of Hermione’s finely written words. He swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, continuing to read on.

_When a witch or wizard attempts to Obliviate themselves, it can have adverse side effects. He’s lost certain parts of himself that I’m afraid no magic in the world can bring back. He’s created tears in his mind that could be partially repaired with time, but never fully healed._

_Draco, I realize that I have no right to write you about him and I don’t expect you to feel any pity for him. Ronald refuses to visit him at the hospital and doesn’t even know I’m writing this letter. What he put you through—what he put both of you through—you have the right to never forgive him. _

_I’ve tried to visit him on multiple occasions, but he won’t speak to me. The Healers at St Mungo’s say that he may never speak again. He is not the same person he was, but maybe I never knew him that well at all. He fooled all of us and I’ll never forgive myself for not helping you in time._

_You must think me a terrible person, Draco._

_After all of this time, I still see him as a friend. Maybe I’ll always see him as that innocent, young bespectacled boy and the not as the monster he became. Part of me cannot forgive him for what he has done to you, but another part of me cannot forget the past we’ve shared.  
_

_So, I’m writing this letter to you as a last resort. If you choose to do so, you can burn this letter and act like I never wrote it to you in the first place. That would be within your rights to do so, Draco._

_I wouldn’t blame you if you did._

_But, if you want to speak with me about this in person, please come back to London. We all miss both of you so, so much and we love you more than could ever be expressed through written or spoken word. I hope you’re both doing well and are flourishing in France._

_Your friend,_

_Hermione Granger-Weasley_

Draco lowered the letter, his tears blurring his vision.

He didn’t often think about the man who held him captive, but sometimes, during the darkest hours of the night when his daughter was sleeping and the world seemed silent, he did.

The picture he had ripped from the Prophet after his arrest laid at the bottom of the drawer in his nightstand. He would look at it sometimes, but only when he knew his daughter was asleep.

He hadn’t looked at that picture in a long time.

“Mum?”

His daughter stood behind him, a furrow between her dark brows. “Why are you crying?”

Draco quickly wiped at some of the errant tears that had slid down his cheeks, sniffling softly.

“Nothing, dearest. It’s a letter from Aunt Hermione. I just miss her.”

His daughter looked unconvinced, a calculating glint in her green eyes. “Are you telling me the truth?”

Sometimes, it unnerved him how perceptive his daughter was. It was why he was never able to forget what Alpha had fathered her. She showed traits of him every day. From the sly way she could get information out of people without even trying, to the way she seemed to be able to read his own thoughts just by looking at his face.

But there were flashes of himself inherent in her too. One of the biggest traits being her ability to easily forgive.

Draco suddenly remembered the promise he had made to himself all those years ago while he’d been standing in front of Sirius’ portrait.

To always be honest with his child, even if it hurt him.

“No,” Draco said hoarsely. “I’m not. I got upset because Hermione brought up an old friend of mine in the letter and it made me...sad.”

His daughter closed the distance between them, banding her small arms around his waist.

“An old friend?” she asked, looking up at him.

Draco nodded mutely, the letter in his hand feeling heavy.

“What kind of friend?”

“Oh,” he said softly. “A man I knew a long time ago. Before you were born.”

“What happened to the man?” she asked, her large green eyes, seeking.

“He, um, went away. We don’t speak anymore, this man and me. It hurts when I think about him.”

“Does it hurt still?”

Draco looked down at his daughter, wrapping his free arm around her shoulders. Her innocent question reminded him of a conversation he had with her father, all those years ago.

“Yes,” he admitted. “Yes, it still hurts to think about him, but that’s okay. It’s okay because I have you now. You make me happy, Jellybean, and those unpleasant memories don’t hurt as much whenever I’m with you.”

She tightened her arms around him, whispering, “I’m glad.”

Draco smiled and looked at the sliding glass door leading outside, at the clear blue sky and his potted fern still sitting on the balcony.

Even though he was still healing from his time spent in captivity, his daughter had healed the parts of him that he thought would never mend. He had thought wrong all those years ago.

He wasn’t broken.

When his daughter was in his arms, he felt _whole_.

“Me too,” he answered quietly.

He released her and stepped back to look down at her.

“What do you say to visiting your Aunt Hermione and Cousin Rose in London?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me writing this chapter:
> 
> (Jellybean is just her nickname. Name reveal in later chapters.)


	15. Forgiving Burden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I’m so sorry for the late update. I only write new chapters for this fic when I’m in the right mood (depressed🥴) so I’m sorry again for the wait!
> 
> Enjoy!🖤

“You look well, Draco.”

Draco looked up from his cup of tea, snapping out of the trance he seemed to be under since arriving back in London.

Everything seemed so…corporeal to him all of the sudden.

The slowly swirling milk melding into his tea. The way his shirt collar brushed against his nape. Even the dust motes floating through the air in front of the window in Hermione’s home, illuminated by the waning sunshine bleeding through the gap in the drapes and spilling across the hardwood floor.

He felt oversensitized, needing _something_.

It was almost as if he wanted to scream, but he didn’t know why. A feeling like he wanted to expel something from his very soul.

Maybe if he could bring this thing to fruition to face the light of day, he would feel better, but somehow, he doubted that.

He hadn’t felt like that in a long time.

Draco smiled, turning towards Hermione. They were both seated on her sofa in her living area.

“Thank you, Hermione. You look well, too.”

The years had been kind to her. When she smiled back, the skin next to her eyes creased, but her heart-shaped face looked unchanged from when they had first met. The warm sunlight highlighted one or two threads of silver in her chestnut curls, her brown eyes lightened to an almost whiskey color.

But she was still the same Hermione.

His friend.

She let out a delicate snort. “I suppose. Between my job and Rose graduating from Hogwarts, I haven’t had much time to myself lately. But anyway, how are you doing? How are you _both_ doing, Draco?”

He was glad Ron had taken his daughter to Diagon Alley so that Hermione and he could have some time alone together to catch up. He didn’t like being away from her, but he didn’t want to bring up certain things about his past in front of his daughter.

Draco shrugged dropping his gaze back to his teacup. The milk was almost completely blended now.

“All right. Sometimes it’s hard adapting to life on our own. The stipend checks from the Ministry come once a month, but I’ve been trying to find a job that suits my interests and works with Jellybean’s school schedule.”

After his captor’s treatment of him had been publicized, the Ministry had tried to save face. Well, Kingsley, specifically. He was the one who had signed the breeding law into effect and most of the blame had been put on him.

When Kingsley had stepped down, the new Minister of Magic had begun to rectify his mistakes. The first thing she’d done was repeal the barbaric breeding law.

In reparation for Draco’s suffering, the Ministry had begun sending him funds each month to help with his relocation and life adjustment.

Even though it helped, monetary means would never erase what had been done to him.

“And the money from…him?”

Draco winced, his hand tightening around his cup.

Just before his captor had been sentenced, he had signed over all of his assets and savings to Draco to do with as he pleased.

He had never touched one Galleon of it.

Gringotts had repeatedly sent him letters about his captor’s vault and his instructions on how he wanted his wealth dispersed to his _family_ while he was incarcerated.

In the beginning, part of him had wanted to travel to Gringotts and set fire to the vault, but what would that help in the grand scheme of things?

Even if the vault was gone and Grimmauld Place was demolished, the memories would remain.

Draco would remain.

His memories, his trauma, and his pain would still be there— _inside_ of him.

Just as… _he_ would always remain within him.

Draco wasn’t one to mete out revenge and he had no desire to dredge up the past. He wanted to move on with his life and he had been, but there was something that he was ignoring.

Even if he continued on with life, ignoring Hermione’s letter and the awful things that had happened to him, there would always be a part of him that _couldn’t_ move on.

An open wound inside of him that even his daughter couldn’t heal. It would continue to bleed, spilling parts of himself that he could never get back.

Not until he faced what had caused the wound in the first place.

“I haven’t accepted any of it. I think you can understand why, Hermione.”

Hermione nodded solemnly, pain mirroring Draco’s own within the depths of her umber eyes. It was a different kind of pain, but pain, nonetheless. Hermione had never gotten over what her old friend had done to him.

She had lost her best friend, just as Draco had lost his innocence.

“I do understand. There are a lot of things I _don’t_ understand. Why…he did what he did and what compelled him to do it, but above all else, I would understand if you ignored my letter and never came to visit. However, you’re here and I can’t help but wonder…why?”

Draco took a sip of his tea, ruminating over Hermione’s question.

He lowered the cup back to his lap, using his other hand to pluck at a loose thread at the hem of his short-sleeved button-down that he hadn’t noticed before. He wound it around his finger, watching as his blood was cut off from the tip.

“I suppose I want some closure. If I told you I was completely healed from what he did to me, it would be a lie, Hermione. I guess…I just want to see if my memories reflect the man who held me captive all those years ago. If he’s still as…”

Draco’s throat suddenly felt closed up, his finger now numb from how tightly the thread constricted it.

The numbness seemed to spread throughout him, enveloping him. Whenever he thought about _him_ , numbness was preferential over…everything else Draco didn’t think about and _feel_.

Hermione must have noticed, placing one of her warm hands on his shoulders.

“He’s not the same, Draco. All the times I tried visiting him, he was a different person, but I suppose I never really knew what kind of person he was and the…hatred he harbored in his heart. After he went away to Azkaban, I blamed myself for what happened to you. I felt as if it were my fault for not noticing the signs earlier. I was such a fool…”

Her hand slid from his shoulder, dropping listlessly to her lap. She stared straight ahead, pain etched across her pale features.

Draco snapped the loose thread from his shirt and set his teacup on the side table next to the sofa. He slid his hand into her lifeless one, entwining their fingers.

“It wasn’t your fault, Hermione,” he said softly. “You couldn’t have known.”

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, feeling nothing but gratitude for his friend.

“Even if you refuse to see it, you helped me. Your visits were a reprieve for me. You’ll never know how much life you breathed into me during our visits. In a way, you helped me get through the worst of it. I think…if I hadn’t of had you, I would have never made it. _She_ would have never made it. The pictures, your words, your advice…it all helped.”

Sometimes, all people needed was someone to care.

And Hermione had been that person for him back then.

Even in the darkest times of his captivity, when he felt like there was nothing left of himself and he was slowly drowning in his own despair, Hermione had pulled him back to the surface.

She had cared then, and she cared now.

He glanced up at her, studying her profile in the warm sunlight. Her pale cheeks shone with wetness, droplets clinging to her eyelashes.

She turned and gave him a wan smile. “How could you ever forgive me, Draco? I don’t deserve forgiveness and neither does he. Our sins are not the same, but I aided in your suffering by not helping you when I could have.”

Draco scooted closer to her, still holding her hand within his own.

“I forgive you, Hermione. I forgive you because I want to let go of the past. What happened back then is something I want to move on from. So please, do not blame yourself.”

Another tear escaped, sliding down her cheek. “I still love him, you know,” she said hoarsely. “He was my best friend. My family.”

Draco nodded slowly. “I know. I know that you do, and that’s okay. Sometimes, we can’t help who we love, even if that person isn’t worth loving.”

Hermione’s breath hitched, a soft sob escaping her. She pulled Draco into an embrace, holding him close.

“You’re worth loving, Draco. You didn’t deserve any of what happened to you. You and your daughter both deserve happiness and a chance to move on, to lead a wonderful life together.”

Draco hugged her back, his lids sliding shut.

“Thank you, Hermione. For everything,” he whispered.

With the warm sunlight embracing them both and Hermione’s arms around him, he didn’t feel numb anymore.

**XXX**

Draco stood in front of the entrance to St. Mungo’s Hospital.

He held a bouquet of red carnations in one hand.

They had been picked out by his daughter. He’d told her he was going to visit a sick friend in the hospital, and she’d insisted on him bringing flowers to the person.

“ _They always cheer me up, so they’ll cheer up your friend, too_!”

His daughter’s remembered words were like a knife to his heart. If only she knew who she was picking the flowers out for.

He supposed he could have thrown them in the bin on the way here, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Muggles passed him, on their way to work or whatever other obligation they had to rush off to.

Draco was suddenly envious of them.

Even though they had their own lives with their own problems, they didn’t have to carry the burden that had stayed with him for the past eight years.

Sometimes, he wished he’d never been born into the world of magic. Maybe it would have saved him from some of the pain he held close to his heart.

But then he wouldn’t have had his daughter.

No, he decided.

He wouldn’t want another life. Not if it meant he had never gotten pregnant with—

“Draco?”

Draco startled, hiding a small bouquet of red carnations behind his back as if they didn’t exist.

“A-Arlen?” Draco stammered.

Arlen, the Healer who’d been assigned to monitor his pregnancy, stood behind him on the sidewalk.

He looked like he was on his way to work, a messenger bag slung haphazardly over his shoulder. He hadn’t changed much in the intervening years. His brown eyes were still warm, albeit his hair was now shorter, like his own.

“I thought that was you. Almost didn’t recognize you. How are you doing?”

“I’m doing all right. I’m just here to visit someone. Are you still working in the fertility ward?”

Arlen shook his head, his eyes filled with remorse. “No. They transferred me to another floor after…well, you know.”

“I see.”

They lapsed into an awkward silence, staring at each other.

Draco could recognize the pity in Arlen’s eyes, and he didn’t like it.

He didn’t want to be back in London where everyone knew what happened to him. His name was synonymous with his captor’s now and it had taken years for his unwanted fame to finely wane.

The surrounding sounds of the city and the people seemed to disappear, a dull roaring noise edging towards a crescendo in Draco’s ears.

 _Stop looking at me like that_. _Stop looking at me like I’m some_ —

 _Victim_.

“Heading inside?” Arlen finally asked, making Draco snap out of it.

“Um,” Draco rasped. “Yes. I was just about to go in.”

Arlen smiled, hefting his bag higher on his shoulder. “Let’s go in together.”

Draco nodded and allowed Arlen to walk past him, following behind as he entered the hospital.

The ground floor held the waiting room. It was bustling with Healers and witches and wizards who were being admitted.

He followed Arlen down the corridor off to the side of the reception area and to the lift. Arlen paused, turning to face him.

“Which floor are you headed to?”

Draco swallowed nervously, holding the carnations to his chest. “Fifth floor.”

Arlen studied him and Draco could feel his ears heat.

In the following weeks after his captor’s arrest, both of their faces had been plastered all over Wizarding news outlets.

During the trial, the media had been a nightmare for Draco.

His captor’s crimes had garnered a lot of attention, his celebrity status in the magical community shifting when he had confessed. They had deemed him a monster, his actions so deplorable that his books had been pulled and no longer sold.

With Draco’s abuse publicized along with his mother’s escape from Azkaban, he’d been hounded by reporters day and night. It had all been too much for him at the time. He’d been a new mother with a newborn, but that hadn’t deterred people from trying to snap a photo of him whenever he was outside.

The ghastly headlines they’d printed in the Daily Prophet had turned his stomach so much that Ron and Hermione had stopped their owl from delivering them.

He’d stayed with Hermione after giving birth for a couple of months while he adjusted to motherhood and she’d been fiercely protective of him during that time.

She had hexed one nosy reporter from the Prophet after he’d tried scaling the lattice in her garden in an attempt to get a photo of Draco.

He didn’t miss those horrid days of hiding out, trying to remain unseen from the world. 

And if he had gone out, the _pitying_ looks people had cast him...

He had hated it.

He hated what _he_ had done to him. His life had been irrevocably changed and it was all because of...

Him.

It was only after he’d left London that he’d had any kind of reprieve from the intrusive public eye.

He had been just a boy back then, only seventeen.

But he wasn’t a young, scared teenager anymore. He was now a man, but still haunted by memories that refused to be forgotten.

It was unnerving that Arlen probably knew all the humiliating details of his captivity and what was done to him. He knew that Arlen himself had been questioned by the Ministry due to his care of Draco while he’d been pregnant.

Arlen remained silent, walking into the lift after Draco. When the doors closed, Arlen cleared his throat.

“You’re going to see _him_.”

Draco kept his eyes downcast, studying the delicate petals of one of the carnations in the bouquet.

“I am,” he said softly. “Have you seen him since he’s been admitted?”

Arlen shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “No. I don’t want to see him. I read about what he did to you, Draco, and the Ministry gave me enough information to make me sick.” He paused, sighing before continuing. “Listen, everything you had to endure during your pregnancy—”

“We don’t have to talk about that, Arlen. It wasn’t your fault. It was a long time ago.”

“I know, but I should have been able to tell something was amiss at your checkups, but the bastard had all of us fooled. If I could have just—"

The lift halted, the doors opening. They were both silent, Draco refusing to look up from the flowers he held.

Arlen stepped out, turning around to hold open the doors. “Whatever you’re going to say to him, Draco, he doesn’t deserve it. They say he’s lost his mind. Your words are wasted on the likes of him. He’s just some washed up wizard with a broken mind now. He’s a monster and he doesn’t deserve any kindness, especially from you.”

Draco looked up, giving him a small smile. “I’m doing this for myself, Arlen. I need to see him. Even if it’s just a glimpse. I just…need to. Thank you for your concern, but I’m going to see him.”

Arlen shook his head, his eyes softening. “He doesn’t deserve to see you again. Let him rot, Draco. Let him die in the prison he’s created for himself.”

Draco clenched his free hand into a fist at this side. “I can’t.”

And he couldn’t.

He couldn’t turn away from what he was about to do. Despite all of the terrible things that had been done to him, he couldn’t turn his back on someone who was suffering.

It wouldn’t be like him and he could never forgive _himself_ if he didn’t do this.

There was one other reason as well...

Unlike the man who had abused him, he would face his fears head on. He didn’t want petty revenge. He wanted closure. 

Draco needed to see him and tell him that he wasn’t _broken_.

He was someone.

He was a friend, a son, and a _mother_.

He wasn’t a burden.

It was something he had to do.

Arlen let go of the doors, stepping back. He looked begrudgingly resigned, his mouth a flat line.

“Take care of yourself, Draco.”

The doors closed with a soft thud, the lift slowly propelling Draco upwards towards the man he vowed he would never set eyes again.


End file.
